Down A Shadowed Road - Revised
by Majestic War
Summary: Down a road...a shadowed road, cloaked in darkness. The end of the path is invisible. Is it real? What is reality? What is the future? A story that advertises itself as an adventure/drama piece, but in reality talks of the deeper problems with memory, emotions, relationships and war. Reimangined Wizard101 universe. Rated M for language, violence and sexual themes/sexual scenes.
1. Rage's Descent

**MW: Here you go, everyone. The first chapter of DASR Revised, featuring Talon and Hunter in Rage's Descent. DASR Revised will be like the first DASR, a bunch of stories containing characters that connect one way or another, which will then lead up to each character meeting simultaneously. As a bonus, I'll give you the choice to decide where the road leads for each character, duo, trio or quartet. Next chapter will feature the members of Di KNight's Team Immortal. Thanks for reading. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW. **

**Make sure you tell me where you want to road to lead for these characters. **

**Bold Italics are Thalomir talking. Italics are spell named chanted in minds, or names of important places or emphasized words. **

**1 – Rage's Descent**

Dark skin glistened brightly in the moonlight, the sheen of sweat coating flesh visible, every drop, every salt molecule residing in each bead that rolled down the thirteen year old's body discernible from at least fifty meters away. He gripped a massive pole arm with both hands, the silver and black plating that ran along the hilt seeming to comfort him as he crept softly along the fields, bright lights of the station reflected in his retinas, vibrant crimson eyes scrutinizing every object that the prestigious and prosperous Marleybonian carried, human or not. All the Marleybonians in the station were usually prosperous. Rich. People he could steal from.

He couldn't stop the smirk from playing across his face.

Night was nigh.

Talon Bloodbane's leather boots padded softly against the flexible grass as he crept along the field, trampling flowers carelessly, spinning the axe in his hand, moonlight bouncing extravagantly off of the golden crescent blades that adorned the head of the staff-like part of the pole arm. Talon inhaled again, exhaling incoherently.

He didn't know why he resorted to stealing. He forgot why. Maybe to free himself from the chaotic clutches of life and throw himself into darkness and danger. To be honest, he never put much thought to it. And he'd never actually use the axe to hurt anyone. It was just…to scare them. Right. Talon inhaled again, pressing his sophisticated mind into focus. His eyes narrowed and his gaze sharpened as he neared the station. He slid the axe-a family heirloom-into a belt-like strap on his back, and bent his knees in preparation.

**_Now._**

A commanding voice echoed throughout his skull, prompting Talon to run. The boy's feet exploded with force, and he dashed forwards, dropping into a low crouch and rolling between unsuspecting legs, left hand reaching up and snatching bags from hands, slowing temporarily for the occasional bag with a strap on it. It was an easy gig—most Marleybonians were used to seeing pompous wizards stroll through the entire world with weapons strapped to their backs, waists, or calves. In truth, he didn't have to run; Marleybonians were just as unsuspecting—but it made the job risker and heart-pounding. Talon basked in the feel of adventure.

He paused his run as he reached the field on the other end of the station, and dropped into a roll, vaulting forward awkwardly—he wasn't an acrobat, mind you—missing his pivot and tumbling to the grass, his finds spilling from his arms. He rose to his feet; despite stumbling a few times with a slight groan, rubbing his head gingerly. He ran a cautious eye over his items of that night. At least one thousand gold coins, a ragged-looking dagger coated with an unnatural sheen of silvery-white flame—magic, probably—and some beauty-obsessed female cosmetics. Also probably magic. He sighed as he slid the items into a bag coated in fraying fabric.

Well, at least the gold and the dagger were worth it. He'd saved up enough gold for him to run away with his twelve year old brother, Hunter. His motive wasn't to be questioned. Ever since his father was slain presumably valiantly in the Second Great Wizard War, his mother was left to wallow in depression, grief and emotional darkness for a short time. And then she met Lucas. And everything seemed okay. Lucas was a seemingly grandiose hulk of a man, polite and filled with what Talon now discerned as faux kindness and a gravitational air around him. He was the kind of man a woman would desire, meddle with in her lustful fantasies that she tended to keep to herself. He was ideal. Or at least, Talon thought so. Lucas was kind enough to recognize Talon's lust of magic, and teach him some Theurgy. He taught Talon how to heal, and how to connect with nature on such levels that even the most divine of beings would feel offended. But Talon was naïve. He never knew what Lucas was actually capable of, despite the latter being a renowned Theurgist who had fought alongside many legends in the Second Great Wizard War.

News of Sierra Bloodbane's death in the beginning flames of the Third Great Wizard War brought Talon and his younger brother to tears, and they looked to Lucas for comfort, crimson and burgundy eyes filled with childish innocence, begging to be woken from the horrendous dream that tormented them. Instead, they were met with hard viridian eyes, pupils like obsidian stones embedded into a rock that seemed to hum with fury, betrayal and regret.

Lucas lashed out, rage filling his eyes, bringing the tears, causing him to blame Talon and Hunter for the death of their kind, loving mother. Lucas' hatred manifested itself in the form of brutalization, sending balled fists careening into Talon's stomach, open palms coated with magic into the side of Hunter's face, heavy boots into crotches, knuckles into jaws. Talon didn't fight back, still clinging onto the vain and fragile hope that the man that they almost considered a father managed to retain his happiness, his kindness and his pride that he often enjoyed flaunting around their mother. But it wasn't there. Talon's hope was slaughtered, the light in his eyes finally dying. He began to hate Lucas—hate him for creating a farce to woo his mother, hate him for taking his anger out on them—hate him for _imprisoning _them.

Hunter was always optimistic, always offering a solution even while they were getting beat. Hunter's optimism was beginning to annoy him. But Talon was the realist. He knew that they'd never be free. He remained firm to the resolution that just maybe if he could turn his hatred into power, he could kill Lucas. But he couldn't do it. They'd never be free. No use denying the inevitable.

Until now.

Talon stared at the axe in his hand, a rush of power causing his muscles to tense, his mind going numb. Obsidian tendrils circled his arm, spiraling downwards, wrapping almost protectively around his hand. Although he failed to notice, his eyes glowed brightly. He inhaled deeply and a name flashed through his mind, and although it was gone, its…essence lingered in his subconscious, as if it was etched there—no, burned there—by an enigmatic force. The name caused Talon to chuckle softly despite his lack of knowledge as to who owned the name or what relationship the owner had to him as he began to traverse the field on the path back towards his house. He swung his bag lazily, the items within seeming to lose value in his mind as he thought of the name, words burning in his skull.

**_Thalomir._**

The dark presence pulsated firmly in Talon's subconscious, and he _felt_ it as he walked, as if it were drawing on his emotion, his raw hatred for Lucas; his fury directed towards his surrogate father for hurting his brother, for disgracing their family name and sending them into an abyss of grief. He even felt his sliver of hope slip away, the hope that Lucas was still a good man and just needed time. He felt the emotions contort in the back of his mind, a sharp tingle that lanced from his brain down to his fingertips.

**_Thalomir. Thalomir. Thalomir._**

The name burned almost painfully against Talon's skull, and he gritted his teeth as words began to flash in his mind, the ground in front of him lit up by the glow of his crimson irises, the words converting his emotions to power, strength, motive—the sustenance required to do what he had feared and yet yearned to do ever since Sierra Bloodbane's death.

He was going to kill Lucas. He inhaled deeply, his resolve chiseled into stone as the last sentence nearly exploded within him, visions of mauling the object of his hatred springing into mind.

_**Go forth, my paragon.** _

* * *

><p>"Exalted…" Hunter Lioncloud whispered, hands strung together behind his head, burgundy eyes focused on the ceiling, running along the sophisticated patterns that lined the underside of the roof. The title sounded so intriguing. Lucas was an Exalted Theurgist. Lucas Lioncloud.<p>

Why? Hunter wouldn't know. As far as the twelve year-old cared, Lucas was a sick, desperate, toxic degenerate shell of a pure human being-failing to rectify himself despite the many chances he was given in life-who deserved to have a wand shoved up his anus and a plethora of spells cast, which would in turn destroy his innards and technically vaporize him.

Technically.

Hunter hated Lucas, but kept the man's last name because, in his mind, the name 'Lioncloud' inspired hope and the women loved it. He liked women. Especially the ones with nice faces.

He thought.

Hunter sighed again, raising his hand in front of his face, inhaling deeply before exhaling as if he were an Earthborn taking a yoga class. An amused expression replaced his bleak gaze as a slight crackle resonated throughout the room, and a purple bolt of electricity flashed past his line of sight. Lucas used to teach Talon and Hunter Theurgy, but Hunter abhorred the connection he was required to forge with nature in order to heal himself and other people. Healing was overrated. Why heal when you could just…fry them?

That's exactly what he'd asked himself about a week before he realized Lucas' kindness, the thing that he'd admired so much, was all an act. Well, at least…that's what it seemed like from his standpoint. He hated Lucas, but remained optimistic. Hope was always good. Hunter always recognized Talon's urge to smash Lucas' head in. Hunter loved his brother, but preferred to remain patient. Opportunity would come.

Talon's leaky faucet-like, impulsive yet strangely powerful personality would come in handy. Just not yet.

Hunter inhaled again, and pointed his fingertips at the translucent glass that rest on his bedside table, and concentrated on the water, gingerly, gradually parting his eyelids to stare at the water. The water began to rise slightly, like hairs on end despite everything remaining absolutely still. Hunter stared, leaning in a little closer, but leapt backwards to scramble against the wall with a shrill yelp as the glass shattered, the water spilled forth, glad to be released, and purple electricity flickered across the shards of glass, the hairs on Hunter's arm straighter than the spikes on spike traps.

_Wild Bolt. _

Hunter's eyes were wide with metaphorical shock as his brother entered through the window, axe in hand. "Talon…!? You're back late…what took you so long?" Talon remained silent, merely glancing blankly at Hunter. Hunter could visibly notice the fire in his brother's eyes and leaned in tenaciously to look closer, but relinquished the idea when he noted that his brother's eyes were _glowing_. Dark crimson was now a bright scarlet in the darkness of the room, and the sight of his eyes sent fear striking through Hunter's heart. It was as if his eyes were on fire; as if he were influenced by an enigmatic force.

Talon finally replied after the moments of silence, his voice sounding indifferent, detached, frigid. "I'm going to kill Lucas." He murmured softly. That didn't sound like his voice.

Hunter blanched and almost leaped backwards.

_**Kill.** _

"Wait, what-?" He began, confounded to the enth degree. "Why now? Why kill him when we can just run?"

Talon inhaled deeply, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He could already feel his confidence, that smug feeling that pressed on him in his subconscious waning. Tentatively, he answered, "Because we need to be free. That feeling of being chained down will always be with us if we run, Hunter. I need you to be free."

Hunter's lip quivered slightly, and he felt his eyes water, but he chose not to put much thought to it. "He's...downstairs. Waiting for you." The simple, terse reply had been enough, and Talon tossed Hunter the axe, pulling the dagger-like blade from his bag, weighing the weapon in his grip. He swung the bag onto his back again, and beckoned to his brother, adrenaline beginning to fill his nerves again.

**_Succumb._**

A putrid smell, a crackle, acrid smoke, repugnant flames, stars and then suddenly, Talon was in front of Lucas, the Theurgist poised to strike his surrogate son. Talon turned around, watching as Hunter's lips moved slowly. He turned back to Lucas, an otherworldly, ethereal light reflected off of the silver trim on Lucas' robes. Talon would've put more thought to it, but instead glanced at Lucas, who carried a swirling ball of green energy in his hands, prepared to throw it at Talon. The thirteen year old wondered what was going on, his mind failing to register what had happened in what felt like seconds. And why was everything moving so slow?

**_Kill._**

The word flashed in his mind, and the crimson light that had been vaguely bouncing off of Lucas' robes grew brighter, and Talon lost control of his limbs. As if he were an animal hunting prey on instinct, Talon growled darkly, and swiftly drew his arm in a wide arc across his waist, murky blood seeping forth, Lucas' face slowly contorting into an expression filled with insatiable misery. Talon didn't wait any longer, dashed behind Lucas, eliciting a gradual yell from the man as he sliced his thigh with all the force he could muster and as everything began to come into focus and move at regular speed. Talon whirled around, leaped into the air, and sliced at the nape of Lucas' neck, wispy strands of thin, golden hair remaining in the air for seconds. Talon drove the dagger into his stepfather's back as his boots brushed against the ground and retreated two steps before clapping his hands, despite being unsure why. He didn't quite understand what he had just done, or even what he was doing currently. His mind remained in a dark haze, as if caged and desperate to escape, to breathe, to _live._

**_Kill._**

Without any prior warning, the areas where Lucas had been wounded suddenly exploded, an obsidian miasma spilling forth from open areas on his body, He yelped, becoming rigid for a brief moment, and then crumpled to the floor, his face pale and quite skinner and drained than it had been seconds before. As if he'd been drained of energy, life and blood. The miasma swirled around Talon for a moment before it dissipated, seeming to vanish upon contact with his skin. His flesh began to rot, which shouldn't have been possible, especially that quickly. Talon inhaled deeply, blinking once, staring at Lucas. The urge to retch overwhelmed him, and he lost his previous meal a few feet from the body, the stench of already rotting flesh filling his nostrils. Talon felt it in his mind. Felt him, tickling his subconscious, emitting a vile, putrid, yet soothing and alluring presence. Thalomir.

Talon's head pounded. He ached. He knocked on his head with a fist, shaking his cranium gently as if to remove the pulsating feeling in his brain. It felt off. Strange. Ominous.

**_You have performed well, my kin._**

Hunter covered his mouth, eyes wide with shock, vague satisfaction hidden in his gaze. He stared at Talon, brown eyes meeting burgundy.

"What now?" The younger of the two asked, his voice slightly muffled by his hand. Hunter gripped the axe loosely with one hand, afraid of what would happen next.

Talon spat out the rest of the bile from his mouth nonchalantly, and kicked Lucas' lifeless corpse, to reassure himself that he was free. "We run." He murmured, before grabbing his bag, and dashing towards the door, hauling Hunter along.

Somewhere in the back of Talon's mind, he heard a deep voice, a chuckle, emanating from his head, filling his ears with white noise and his body with satisfaction.

It was unnerving really, and filled Talon with a sense of dread.

Where did this road lead?

* * *

><p><strong>MW: Right then. So if you're still confused and wondering where I'm going with this, I decided to begin with Talon and Hunter's perspectives. As they meet new people, it'll shift in and out of various other character perspectives. Don't worry, I'm going to make sure this flows.<strong>

**So, basically, the whole plotline (And if I start straying from the topic, please tell me) is that a number of protagonists with each of their own intriguing (Hopefully) pasts are thrust into a war against a witch known as Morganthe. She is seen a various number of times terrorizing other worlds, and by the time Merle Ambrose gathers an army to prevent her from rising, she's already one of the most powerful magic-users in the galaxy and has many worlds under her control. The story begins with two boys and their abusive stepfather, who the older boy quickly dispatches. The siblings manage to escape, and are on the run when they stumble upon the ship of the White Owl Pirates. They meet a slightly older boy who uses them to plot his own defection from the White Owls and frames Talon and the other White Owls for murder. Hunter, the younger sibling, escapes and gains the knowledge on how to work a ship (From Thalomir, of course. Vague hints and detailed explanations are scattered throughout the story. I'll let you try and deduce what happens in between), and makes it to Ravenwood, where he falls under the care of Merle Ambrose. From there, Hunter and Talon are focused on, along with each of the people they meet, including Raht, Team Immortal, Sabrina Wolfheart, Mirror Moonstone, James Duskstone, B.L.A.S.T., Dr. Katenstein, Malistaire, Astra Snaketongue, and a plethora of other characters. **

**A/N: I've already taken OC Submissions, but I will be accepting an OC that can double as one of Morganthe's elite henchmen (Next to Sabrina.) until the AU special is released. If I get to 55-65 reviews after posting the next chapter, I will let you help me write a chapter, or let you write the chapter with me editing. So keep reviewing!**

**Here are the people I've taken Submissions from.**

**James Firecrafter - James Duskstone (Thumaturge; Legendary): Good**

**Di KNight - B.L.A.S.T. (Katenstein's All-Killing Machine; Unranked): Neutral, Team Immortal (Maximillion Goldstar - Conjurer; Legendary, William Lightningwind - Diviner; Legendary, Vincent Deathwalker - Necromancer; Legendary), Raht (White Owl Pirate/Some Moon Magic; Unranked, around Initiate level): Good**

**BuBu Winter - Astra Snaketongue (Conjurer; Grandmaster): Good/Neutral**

**Fluffy Sakura-kun - Miranda "Mirror" Moonstone (Pyromancer; Magus/Master): Good**

**Wolfheart Ze Fangirl - Sabrina Oceansword (Diviner; Unranked, around Master level): Bad**

**Hunter Lioncloud - Hunter Lioncloud (Diviner; Grandmaster): Good**

**Amaraah01 (Think I spelled it right) - Leif (Theurgist; Magus/Master): Good, Valkyrie Shadowspear (Thumaturge; Adept, strong enough to hold off two powerful wizards at once): Bad**


	2. White Owl

_Italics: Spell names, thoughts and emphasized words_

' ' : Re-quotes

" ": Quotes

CAPS: Yelling

* * *

><p><strong>2 – White Owl<strong>

Talon didn't bother to pay any heed to where he was going. He'd been running for hours, and had lost sight of his house only what seemed like moments earlier. His chest tightened painfully, and he swallowed begrudgingly to assuage his pain. His breath escaped in sharp gasps, and he coughed, having familiarized himself with the metallic taste of blood within the past couple of hours. Hunter was asleep on his back; Talon's forearms burned with pain, but he disregarded it, observing his surroundings instead. Where in hell was he? Sand almost covered his boots, and swirled around his robes as if it were alive. A vast ocean stretched in front of him, indigo mixed with white—the color of nothingness—and silver, ships dotting the coast; spots of spit, water and other equally strange substances decorating the lens on a pair of tan, grainy, trash-littered-sand-framed glasses. The nearest ship couldn't be any further than forty metres away. Talon exhaled loudly, causing Hunter to stir. Talon froze momentarily before jogging lightly towards the ship, feverish glances and his intense heartbeat permeating the silence that enveloped him. Talon skidded to a halt, stumbling to catch himself, failing, and pitching forwards, Hunter falling off of his back and plummeting into the sands, waking mid-fall.

"—The hell, Talon!?" Hunter inquired, much to Talon's chagrin. Hunter rose to his feet and brushed the grains out of his hair, preparing to question Talon further, but paused as he caught sight of the enormous ship before them. "Whoa."

Talon returned his gaze to the ship before beginning to stroll inside.

"Hey, Talon—where are you going—wait, you bastard—do you want to get yourself slaughtered?"

Talon paused his walk, and turned towards Hunter, mischief written across his face, nonexistent graffiti artists decorating his smile with playful intent.

Hunter sighed. "Why doesn't he act like the older one?" The younger boy shook his head and followed his sibling into the ship, inhaling deeply, feeling the mana pool stir inside of him. Talon didn't know that Hunter was able to use any form of Divination. Hunter sincerely hoped that they'd be ambushed, just so he could blast someone and revel in the astonishment that would plaster Talon's face. But then again…would his magic be strong enough? The only spells he was able to cast were the _Saytr _spell that Lucas had taught them, and his own premature _Wild Bolt_. Which was pretty pathetic if you considered that although he exercised regularly with Talon, his physical capabilities were zilch. Hunter was broken from his thoughts as his nose crushed painfully into Talon's back. "Ow, Tal, what the he—"

"Shut up!" Talon hissed, his gaze resting on a table lined with fresh food. He opened his bag and hastily began scooping the food inside while Hunter stuffed a piece of bread and cheese into his mouth—

"Did you really think it'd be that easy?"

A voice. Raspy. Hoarse. Obnoxious. Talon stopped scooping the food into his bag, and drew his axe from his back. He stole a glance at the table, which was practically empty. He clasped his bag and slung it onto his back, standing protectively in front of Hunter, axe brandished defensively. "Show yourself!" He demanded.

Hunter swallowed the bite of food and pressed his back against his brother's bag, inhaling and exhaling steadily, the mana pool within him stirring violently. He had to concentrate to use spells especially since he wasn't familiar with magic. _Wild Bolt. Wild Bolt. Wild Bolt. WILD BOL—_ Hunter's eyes widened as his hands were suddenly pinned against a wall, and a knee was planted firmly in his stomach. His mouth widened as well in a silent gasp of fear, spittle flying from his mouth slowly, as if time was slowed. The young man who had just downed Hunter with a single blow turned towards Talon.

"Your hands are trembling." The young man noted.

Talon's eyes gradually wandered to his hands. His knuckles were stark white, a hearty contrast to his dark skin, and the calluses on his hand burned painfully. The axe shook within his grasp, fear rooting him in place. Fear. Of a young man who couldn't have been more than two years older. Fear.

_Fear._

Talon swallowed nervously, attempted a scowl, and countered, "Wh—Who are you?"

The young man ignored the question. "Did'ja really beli've that you'd be able to get on this here ship and then just as eas'ly escape? _Th's_ ship? You're on the mass've beauty of the _White Owls,_ kid. You ain't going anywhere."

A voice resounded throughout Talon's skull, and the fear inside him dissipated, replaced by irritation. He repeated himself, more calmly this time, glancing at Hunter before speaking. "Who are you? And who are the _White Owls?_"

The man snorted. "They call me Raht. And I'm a member of the _White Owls. _The _White Owl…_pirates, to be exact."

Talon's eyes widened, and fear returned to him again as Raht seemed to materialize in front of him, a fist already planted in his gut.

He welcomed the pain as he fell to the ground, consciousness stolen from him.

Talon awoke to voices. Hunter lay next to him, metal bars crisscrossed in front of his eyes. Through the bars, he could make out a small figure, no more than about four feet, ten inches, with a raspy voice, muttering something to a much taller figure. Through his grogginess, Talon presumed it was a giant.

And then he remembered Raht and growled darkly as his surroundings came into focus and his hearing sharpened.

"—Yeah, of course. The older one has a lot of fire in him—yeah, and the younger one seems to be able to do some magic—well, yeah, of course I did—oh, they're awake." Raht paused and strolled over to the bars, a grin plastered on his face. "Hey there, kiddo."

Talon growled in anger, and slammed his fists against the bars, ignoring the pain. Raht's face was enveloped in a pale red glow, something that Talon felt familiar with but didn't quite recognize. Raht smirked. "You can't get outta there, big boy. I of all people should know best."

**_Talon… _**

A voice beckoned to Talon, and he heard it reverberate within his subconscious. He drew back from the bars, confused, and placed a hand on his head in worry. Confusion began to overwhelm him as Raht's continued speech was drowned out by a multitude of agonized screams and voices that sounded familiar but weren't.

**_Do you want power?_**

There it was again. Talon spoke, his voice lowered to a hiss. If it talked to him, there might be a point in beginning a conversation. "Who are you?" The thirteen year old Bloodbane hissed. "And how come I can hear you?"

**_I am you. _**

"What?" Talon questioned, a bit too loudly this time. He was confused. He felt fear crawling under his skin.

Raht's attention and interest had been piqued. "Who're you talking to, skins?" Raht inquired, referring to Talon using a nickname he'd bestowed upon many of the newer _White Owls_. Talon failed to hear him and continued asking questions.

**_Thalomir. _**

Talon paused for a moment, eyes widening. His blood froze cold and his limbs felt numb.

"I said, who the fuck're y'u talkin' to?" Raht repeated, slamming a crowbar against the makeshift prison.

Hunter snapped awake. "W-Who..?" Hunter muttered almost incoherently, a babble of words that Raht failed to understand.

Talon stared at Raht, eyes still wide, frozen in shock. The thirteen year old slumped to the floor, dread filling his pupils. "No.." He whispered.

**_Do you hate this man? _**

"Shut up!" He barked hoarsely. "Just answer the fucken question and then we'll be all goody-two-shoes!" Raht roared. His breath slipped through the bars; entered Talon's nostrils. It was foul. More foul-smelling than the smell of his mother's food. Which smelled quite horrid, mind you.

"No..." Talon muttered again, fear overwhelming him. Thalomir. The name stood out in his head vividly. Images of death, images of darkness, and images of blood filled his mind and a lump formed in Talon's throat, squeezing his esophagus tightly. "No...no, no...no...no...NO...FUCK!" Talon yelled in exasperation and slammed his head against the wall, cold sweat dripping down his neck.

**_Are you afraid of_**_** me?**_

"Shut up!" Talon roared hoarsely, tears unintentionally making their way down his grime coated face. "Shut...up..." He slammed his fist against the prison wall, oblivious to anything but the voice in his head.

"You piece of—" Raht began as Hunter scrambled in front of his brother, eyes filled with conviction.

"Oi, Raht! Stop 'nterrogatin' the recruits and get yer ass on deck! We set sail for the city tonight, y' sl'my bastarrd!" A pirate yelled and rose from his chair. Raht sneered unhappily as the pirate strode over to the prison where Talon sobbed, accompanied with his thoughts and Hunter stood defiantly. He spun a key ring around his finger and unlatched the cage. "G't yer asses outta here, boys. And stick with Raht, d'nt be buggin' nobuddy."

Hunter grabbed Talon's wrist and hauled him out of the cell with much difficulty. Talon's crimson eyes were fixed on the ground, still as wide as saucers. "Talon," Hunter hissed, gripping Talon's shoulder's tightly. "We have to get out of here. These people are crazy."

Talon shook his head, and looked at Hunter, inspiring fear in the younger brother after gazing into his dread-filled sibling's eyes. "Don't you see, Hunter? Don't you see? I have to go to Ravenwood. They can help me."

Hunter broke out of his trepidation and yelled. "Talon! It takes a month by ship to reach Ravenwood! We live in Marleybone, for hell's sake, don't _you _see? We have to go, now!"

"I can't, Hunter." Talon sobbed, slumping to the floor again. He felt weak and waves of nausea poured over him. Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down bravely. "You don't understand."

A harsh slap echoed throughout the deck. Talon's eyes were still wide. The moisture that had been crawling down his face moments before vanished, wiped away as Hunter's hand connected with Talon's cheek, a red mark visible on Talon's dark skin.

Hunter shook his head demandingly. "You idiot. If you're going to sit here and bawl like an infant, then go cry somewhere else. You aren't my brother. You aren't strong, like my brother. My brother promised never to cry ever since his mother died. My brother promised to take care of me forever. My brother promised me that we'd survive, no matter how hard things got. You aren't my brother. ...If you intend to stay here, then do it. I'm getting out of here."

Talon rose to his feet. "Wait." He wiped the tear streaks and remnants of tears from his face, conviction sparking in his eyes once more. "I'll come with you."

Hunter scoffed, a smile playing on his face. "So have you finally come to terms with yourself?"

Talon merely shrugged.

Hunter grinned widely, amused. His brother was back, it seemed.

**_I am you._**

_Get out of my head. _Talon's strong thought sent a wave of uneasiness rippling through his mind, as if he was repelling the enigmatic voice known as Thalomir. He knew who Thalomir was-his father told him stories and forced him to study ancient history. According to the books, Thalomir was a tyrant who rebelled against the Titans because he was fed up with the way they treated him. So he lashed out. At everyone. He killed innocents, slaughtered almost every race in the galaxy before he was stopped by his own son and three of his friends. Although Talon considered it brutal to turn against your own father-your own kin-on the contrary, he figured Thalomir got what he deserved. But Thalomir was dead.

So how come he was inside Talon's head?

Talon snapped out of his thoughts and turned towards Hunter, who was climbing up a ladder to the upper decks. "C'mon, Talon, hurry up. I have to-"

"Hafta what?" A raspy voice filled Talon's skull and he froze. Raht. A young man, two years older than Talon—at least—about 4'10" tall, shuffled towards the duo, his face masked by the shadows cast by objects strewn across the room which reminded Talon that he had no idea where they were. "Hafta to leave? Haft' to die? Tell m', boys, what'cha hafta do?" Raht hissed, a sinister tone accompanying his words. As he moved away from the shadows, his facial features began to become clearer to Talon, and for the first time, he saw the other boy's high cheekbones, gaunt face, and elongated, yet crooked jaw. It was a twisted beauty, almost.

Talon swallowed nervously, all thoughts of Thalomir lost. "We—" he began, but Hunter stepped in, much to his chagrin.

**_You should've accepted my offer, boy._**

_Get out of my head, bastard._ Talon inhaled deeply, pushing the voice from his mind as best he could.

"We want to leave. We want to leave now. Let us go and we don't have to fight." A bluff on Hunter's part, but it was true. The boys could fight. Not well, of course, but they could fight decently enough to break a nose or leave a scar or three.

Raht laughed maniacally and the slightly shorter Hunter stood in front of his sibling protectively. "Don't make us—" He began, his voice shaky, but Raht waved his hand dismissively, wheezing heavily.

"Oh…oh lord…I was onl' messin' wit'cha. You lot could've left whenever'd you preferred, but once you're on this ship, you can't get off. 'Specially now that we're sailin'." Raht drew a canister from the loose fitting belt on his thin waist which seemed proportional with his arms, more akin to twigs than anything else. The young _White Owl_ tossed the canister into the air, caught it, and fingered the pin attached. That canister didn't look like a magical item, and Talon didn't know about the Earthborn and their form of weaponry.

Hunter swallowed loudly.

Talon thought for a moment as the silence in the room remained obsolete and the crashing of waves slamming against either side of the ship calmed him. He inhaled deeply and so did Hunter, whom he assumed was concentrating for a Wild Bolt spell. "Fine," Talon concluded. "Fine. Let's say we're sailing—"

"We are sailin', boys." Raht interrupted, matter-of-factly.

"—Let's say we're sailing. What's to stop us from jumping into the ocean and swimming out to shore?"

Raht turned his attention towards Talon, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "The spikes'll kill ya 'fore you even get off the ship."

"Spikes?"

"Moonspikes, kiddo." Raht clarified. "We here at th' _White Owls_ are practicers of th' Astra' spells. All of us know a wee bit 'bout Moonstuffs, but the Moonstuffs we know here are dangerous."

Talon adopted an expression of sorrow at the mention of the name Astra, which he knew was a mispronunciation of Astral, but returned to full attention as Raht finished. He sighed. "So we're stuck here forever?"

Hunter roared in agony. "Dammit all to hell! Now we're stuck with a bunch of pirates and no one to save us! How the hell're we gonna survive!?"

Talon found sudden interest in the floorboards as Raht snorted loudly.

Raht snorted again, and flicked the canister into the air once more, catching it and placing it back in his belt with unusual care. "Funny." He muttered as he turned and walked away from the two, seeing as they were lost in their own self-depreciation. "Funny. I musta' thought the same damned thin' firs' time I came here."

Talon's ears pricked as Raht finished his sentence and his crimson eyes fixed on the boy as he strolled away. A voice in Talon's head filled his skull again, and this time, he didn't stop it.

**_Do you want power? _**

Where did this road lead?

* * *

><p><strong>MW: So, you're probably wondering why the characters are prone to mood swings and emotional outbursts. Well, first of all, they've all been through quite a bit and at such a young age, when traumatized, people tend to become emotionally volatile. Also, more will be revealed about Raht as the story continues so hang tight.<strong>


	3. The Consequences of Disarray

**MW: So, sorry for the late update. I've been busy with my upcoming story, To Survive in the Wild! Or TSW, as we can abbreviate. I am opening OC submissions for TSW as of now. As I have already been given two OCs from BuBu Winter and Di KNight respectively (Belenus and B.L.A.S.T.), I will only be accepting three more OCs. So hurry, while you can! OC subs will be open until Valentine's Day. **

**Anyhow, as for DASR, I've decided to leave things relatively ambiguous to add to the intrigue and confusion. Instead, there will be timeskips and flashbacks that depict what happened over events that I left ambiguous. Please enjoy this chapter, and be sure to PM me your OCs for TSW! I will need:**

**Name:**

**Age (Can be anything between newborn and three hundred)**

**Personality (Flesh this out): Are they willing to go to war for the safety of the Spiral? **

**Appearance: Do they look like a teenager, an adult, an infant, etc.?**

**Race:**

**Primary and Secondary Forms of Magic:**

**Weapon of Choice:**

**How Would They React if Magic Disappeared?:**

**How would they react if Marleybonians suddenly overran the Spiral?:**

**Relationships With Other Students or NPCs:**

**Rank:**

**Lineage (Not required, but if they have any living relatives, I suggest you fill this out):**

**Backstory (Flesh this out):**

**Battle Style:**

**EnJoY!**

* * *

><p><strong>3 – The Consequence of Disarray<strong>

_**I am you.**_

The words rang out in Talon's head continuously as he tugged vainly on the ropes to raise the sails.

Thalomir.

At least he'd learned how to put up with the voice that referred to itself as an ancient tyrant who was in close relations with the first Titans of old.

It'd only been at least 28 days since Talon and Hunter had found themselves trapped on a ship full of gangly, burly and irrefutably sour pirates after trying to steal food. After learning that they were already at sea on a course for Ravenwood, Talon and Hunter found their hopes dashed and their minds full of discomfort and fear.

What would happen to them on the ship? Would they be...violated like Talon had heard in the stories many wizards tended to spread around? Would a brawl ensue and Hunter die as a result? Would the moonspikes kill Talon if he tried to run?

_Damn. _He thought, shaking his head clear of negativity. _I'll get off this place. I won't become a slave to these…retarded pigs..!_ Talon silently declared, clenching his fist and pressing it against his heart in a quiet promise. That was the fifth time he'd said that within the month, and he still hadn't made it off yet. In actuality, he'd befriended most of the crewmembers, and didn't really want to leave. He just…he just had to reassure himself that he was still the same person.

Talon sighed again and tugged at the ropes netting the sails together. Night had fallen, and the silvery light of the moon was almost comforting. He felt droplets of water sting his neck and drench strands of his shoulder-length black hair, and he turned, red eyes scrutinizing the sea. During his stay, after observing many pirates navigate, and reluctantly taking tips from Raht, Talon knew enough about reading the sea to be what Raht referred to as dangerous. This ship…although he still had hopes that he could escape…this ship was as much his home as the house he'd lived in with Lucas. Although he probably wouldn't admit it, he liked the people. They were kind enough to teach him how to use his axe enough so that he could actually stun someone for a short duration.

A day earlier, when Hunter had coincidentally brought up Raht, Talon had contemplated the short, young man for over an hour before deciding that he was as much of a friend as any and had earned Talon's full trust. Hunter had scoffed and noted that he wasn't so sure that the 4'10" bastard had earned _his _trust, but he would support his sibling's decision.

Talon smirked to himself and shook his head, tugging on the ropes a final time, sighing in relief as the rope dropped to the deck with a dull thud and the sails rose, flapping wildly, the sound annoying Talon. He growled and kicked the post the sails were attached to before sticking his hands in the pockets of the slightly undersized clothes he'd received from Raht a week after his arrival and made his way towards the lower deck.

As the young man descended the deck, his mind drifted to a time in the past—a time when his mother was alive, a time when she died, a time when Lucas had only just snapped.

A time with Astra.

Talon wasn't going to deny it—he loved her—but he would never tell anyone else. Talon could always remember the day the two first met: It was sometime in the season of the sun and Talon was five and Hunter was four. _Their father was with them then, in the days before the Third Great Wizard War, the aftermath of the Second Great Wizard War still a heavy burden on Valdus. After all, he was a powerful wizard during both conflicts, recognized and praised by some, hated by most. Anyhow, Talon had met Astra when she moved in—her mother was healthy and her father wasn't an alcoholic. They were nice people—Hunter would play outside often, and Talon would have to watch him. It was during one of these days that Hunter was outside; pointing a stick at thin viridian blades of grass and imagining them grow, discussing the properties and fundamentals of basic magic with his nonexistent friends and begging Talon to toss him into the air. Talon wasn't really paying attention because his soft gaze was fixated on her. She was probably the most beautiful specimen he'd ever come across (The only woman he'd ever interacted with was his mother, and she was quite pretty) and he was quite sure that Hunter pushed him over more than once (Which isn't something that Talon would normally let his brother do). He just continued to stare at the girl as she closed her front door with exceptional grace and strode down the cobblestone path, pausing briefly in the road that led up to her house. Her eyes were a piercing, soul-gazing amber, and her hair was the most interesting shade of red Talon had seen—besides his eyes—rather, it transitioned from a bright scarlet to a deep burgundy-maroon mixture, each strand curled neatly except for the long strands that passed her waist. She was so interested in the ground that she didn't notice the wizard speeding on his broom down Talon's street. She glanced up as the quickly incoming wizard let out a shriek as if to warn her. Her eyes widened and within a matter of seconds, Talon had tackled her, pushing her down as the broom hit him in the side and tossed him a few feet over. The wizard hastily scrambled off of his broom, checking to make sure that it remained still before hurrying over to Talon, but Astra was there first. She stared down at him for a moment, and without warning, drove her fist into Talon's gut. Talon, who was unconscious, bent around her fist and his eyes snapped open. He dropped back onto the ground and remained limp._

Talon smiled softly as his mind continued to sift through memories of Astra. He remembered the first time he kissed her. Or rather, the first time she kissed him because he never seemed to know when kissing was…allowed.

_He was eleven then, and he sat with Astra in her basement, hugging his knees to his chest. A fire raged in front of them and Talon couldn't help but note how the light that reflected off of Astra's body made her look even prettier. He glanced away hurriedly when she turned to stare at him. "What's wrong?" She had asked, her fingertips brushing against his shoulder. Talon yelped and moved over slightly, which caused her brows to furrow and for her to scoot closer to him. Talon's face was burning with embarrassment. No matter how much he wanted to hold her, touch her, caress her, kiss her, comfort her, just talk to her…he could never bring himself to it unless she initiated. He felt stuck in her shadow even though he was always next to her, always with her, always driving her. Talon paused momentarily, lost in thought, and turned to Astra._

"_Hey, Astr—" He began, but stopped abruptly. His lips were warm. His vision swam. He couldn't think straight and now Astra was kissing him. Talon hadn't been kissed by anyone other than his mother. It scared him and he was tempted to push the girl away, but he didn't. It was soothing, almost, her lips on his. It was almost as if he could feel what she felt, to taste what she tasted._

_Waves of empathy and delight were coursing through his veins and he struggled to wrap his arms around her waist, managing to do so only as she started to pull away. "No," he hissed fiercely, as if he were fighting off another young man who wanted Astra as well. "You're mine." He whispered gently, more to himself than to her. But she heard and he felt the smile on her lips as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, embracing him in return._

"_My mother always told me to express my feelings openly," Astra muttered, and Talon could feel her breath on his ear. She was warm._

"…_What do you mean by that?" Talon asked, confused. What was she saying? He didn't understand, partially because he didn't put any thought to it and partially because his brain was melting._

"_You idiot." Astra hissed angrily and drove her fist into his stomach. "It means…It means I love you…Talon."_

_That was the first time she'd ever placed his name with such powerful words, and Talon froze. She loved him? This was new. If she did, then why—"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He inquired, voicing his thoughts out loud._

_Talon heard the blush in her voice. "Because…well, how am I supposed to know how you feel? How are you supposed to know how I feel if I don't tell you? Wouldn't this be…wouldn't this be the best time to confess? It's just us after all."_

_Talon nodded and then answered, "How do you—How do you think I—How do you think I feel?" He stammered, struggling to push the words from his maw. He still embraced her tightly, felt her breath on his neck, felt her hands against his back._

"_I think you feel the same." Astra said, letting go of Talon, moving her head to glance up at him._

_Talon grinned childishly and Astra scowled, kissing him again._

Talon had reached the lower deck by this point, and a wide grin was spread across his face. He strode towards his room, clearing his mind with thoughts of Astra, inhaling deeply and pushing open the door. Hunter sat on the top of the bunk beds, a platter clutched tightly in his hands, lined with an array of assorted foods. "Why're you so happy?" Hunter asked skeptically.

_**I am you.**_

Talon threw his arms wide in a massive shrug. "Dunno," He answered plainly, grabbing a platter from the large table that occupied the other half of the room and lining it with rolls, dragon meat and treefruit.

"That treefruit tastes like hell, you know," Hunter interjected, and Talon placed it back on the treefruit plate. Instead, he added more dragon meat to his platter and another roll before climbing onto the top bunk to sit next to his sibling. In the silence that followed, the only sounds that filled the room were the crashing of waves against the ship and Talon and Hunter chewing feverously. Hunter swallowed loudly, then, "You were thinking about her, weren't you?"

Talon froze, set a piece of dragon meat back onto his platter and stared at his brother. "How did you-?" He began.

"You always think about her, Tal. You say her name in your sleep. Talon. She's gone. She's been gone for nearly a year. Get over her."

"That's a lie…" Talon muttered, dropping his platter. His fists clenched tightly and his body trembled with rage. The food spilled onto the bedsheets, but Hunter didn't notice and pressed on.

"Talon, you have to move on. She's gone. She left us. She isn't coming—" Hunter wasn't able to finish his sentence and his latter of food was knocked from his grasp as his brother tackled him, shoving him hard against the bed. Talon's hands were wrapped around Hunter's neck, an iron grip that wasn't likely to be broken anytime soon.

Talon could no longer think straight. All that filled his head was Thalomir's voice, instructing him to embrace anger. Embrace it. Embrace it.

_EmbracetheangerembracetheangerembracetheangerembracethEANGEREMBRACETHEANGEREMBRACEITEMBRACEITKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL_

"_Take it back!_" Talon yelled angrily, crushing Hunter's throat between his palms. "_You asshole, take it back!_"

Hunter choked audibly, gasping for air which he was unable to find beneath Talon's calloused hands. The younger brother kicked and flailed, his right fist finally connecting with Talon's cheek. Talon fell backwards, and Hunter pounced without bothering to catch his breath. The younger of the siblings straddled his older brother, fists flying over Talon's body. "Go to hell, Talon! Just die already! Die, you idiot, die!" Hunter roared in fury. Talon struggled to stand and managed to push Hunter back and rise to his knees before the twelve year old shoved the thirteen year old with all his might and sent him tumbling over the edge of the bunk bed and crashing to the floor.

Talon couldn't see. His vision swam, and multicolored spots dotted his retinas painfully. His head ached and he couldn't feel anything. "Take it…back…" He murmured before losing consciousness.

* * *

><p>When Talon awoke, he felt the rock of the ship and was tempted to return to the dreamless sleep. The door to the room he was in opened, and Hunter came in, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry," he murmured.<p>

Talon's eyes were hurt, his smile pained. "It's….alright. I just…haven't been in my right mind lately."

"Being on a ship with lots of burly…._greasy _men will do that to you. Cling onto the last thing you have left that you love, right?"

"Now you sound like the older brother." Talon scoffed, a smile playing on his face.

Hunter shrugged. "I love you, so I gotta take care of you when things get like this, right?"

Talon smirked, turning his head away. He flexed his toes, studying the surprising…whiteness in the room. The bedsheets were white, the bedframe an ugly brown color, covered in grime and scratches. Talon didn't doubt its horrendousness, but accepted it all the same and snorted to himself. His attention was turned towards his brother when the younger of the two spoke.

"We're leaving in two days."

Talon blanched. "What?" He was surprised that Hunter would still be so keen to leave, even after it seemed he'd taken a liking to most of the crewmembers. To bring it up right after Talon had nearly killed him, right after Talon was still attempting to recover, to push the thoughts of Astra from his mind—the thoughts that seemed to corrode him, degrade him, break him inside—to bring it up at such a time was preposterous.

Hunter shrugged, his eyes fixed on the ground. He brushed some of the curly brown hair from his eyes. "You and me. We're leaving. Raht said he'd assist us in getting off. We'll arrive in Ravenwood in two days. When we get there, we'll sneak off and hopefully restart our lives." Hunter said, his voice full of some sort of emotion, although Talon couldn't discern what exactly it was. The boy's eyes sparkled with hope.

Hope.

_Hope._

Hope disgusted Talon. It reminded him of everything he'd wanted to be, of everything that he could've had, of everything that could've been, of everything that he wanted it to be—hope—hope was futile. Hope was for the foolish, for the weak, for the people who gave up at a moment's notice.

_**I am you.**_

Talon was none of those. He'd killed Lucas. He'd survived a near month on this rotting piece of junk with this group of misfits, each who seemed to account for the other's weakness. He was strong, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give up now. "Okay," He hissed, his eyes narrowing. The mere prospect of hope disgusted him. His gaze then softened and he turned to look at his brother. "But are you sure you want to leave without saying goodbye to these…to our…to our _friends?_"

Hunter chuckled. "I already said goodbye." He produced a weapon from behind his back and tossed it to the older sibling. "Raht wants you to have your axe back. Midnite was tearing up when I told him that you wanted to say goodbye. He says you should never let go of that axe, and remember his teachings."

Talon smiled. Midnite was the second person he and Hunter had been introduced to, the burly man who had released them from the cramped cell so long ago. He was the person who had taught Talon how to wield an axe, the man who had been Talon's friend, always optimistic, never down, pushing the boy to his limits and praising him even when he did terrible. In some ways, Midnite reminded Talon of Hunter. Just…older. "Alright," Talon said softly. He glanced at Hunter and grinned. "We can finally fix things."

Hunter nodded with a small smirk. "Luck to you, Talon."

_**My child…**_

Talon pushed the voice from his mind as Hunter closed the door. He tangled his fingers in his hair with a sigh of exasperation and crashed against the pillow. Everything was in disarray. He just wished he could start over again. He imagined it. It was like a sensual fantasy, emitting a mouth-watering pheromone that drew Talon to it. He wanted to start over. He _needed _to start over. This life…it was sufficient, but it wasn't enough. It was painful. It was…no, it scared him. It scared Talon to death, really. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and imagining something…better.

_**Israfel…**_

The voice inside his subconscious was nothing more than a mere whisper. A whisper that seemed to imply that there were secrets. Secrets that would soon be uncovered. Secrets…secrets that Talon had yet to uncover about himself. About the world.

After all, he was but a child, and the world was only so large.

_**Israfel…**_

It hissed again. Talon growled. "Don't call me that," He whispered, gritting his teeth at the mention of his name. "I rid myself of that name a long time ago." He murmured. "You will never call me that again." His voice held a certain level of ferocity, and Talon almost swore he felt the presence withdraw from his mind. It was soothing, those few seconds of silence. And then,

_**Can you see it?**_

Talon growled under his breath. "Stop. Stop asking me questions I have no answer to. Just…stop. Get out of my mind."

_**Can you see it, Israfel? Can you see it, my child?**_

The thirteen year old roared in anger, pulling at his hair in frustration. "Go away!" He yelled, his voice drifting into nothingness. He hung his head, placing it within his hands. "Just go, damn you. I can't see it, and I'm not expecting to!"

_**Let me show you.**_

Talon remained silent. He lifted his head from his palms slightly.

Humans.

Why did they underestimate curiosity?

"Who…are you?"

_**I am you.**_

"Stop saying that!" Talon exclaimed, sending his boot to the wooden planks that lined the floor of the ship. A few snapped beneath the force he wrought on them. "You are not me! You will _never _be me! I am Talon! I am me! You are not me!" He yelled, sending his fist sailing towards the wall of the ship. The wooden planks cracked and Talon drove his fist even through them, opening his hand wide and flexing his fingers as the ocean breeze whirled around his hand. He clenched his hands again and drew his fist back into the room. Wood must've been old. He exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed. "Who—who are you?"

The voice seemed to sigh within Talon's mind, and then finally exhaled and spoke. _**You will know, in time. Let the secrets reveal themselves.**_

Talon swore albeit hesitantly and exited the room.

* * *

><p>"So, here's the plan-"<p>

"Shut up, Raht," Talon complained, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You still haven't come up with a solid idea and we leave in an hour."

"Oi! I'm running this now, you listen to me, ya twat." Raht yelped, his fist connecting with Talon's forehead. The younger boy toppled over with a snarl. "This is what we'll do. I'll go in, yeah? I'll go in and I'll tell the guards some story while you two use th' for'st as cover fer when the guards run to th' ship."

Talon spoke second. "Why don't we all distract the guards. Say that the Pirates captured us. Although, I do feel bad about doing such a thing...'specially to Midnite."

Raht nodded in agreement. "Good idea, kiddy. But how 'boutI go to the guards first? I'd love to tell the story. I hold no love fer this hellhole." He jabbed a thumb accusingly at the door behind him, and Talon felt a pang of pity for his friend.

He paced a hand on Raht's shoulder. "It's alright. We'll make it out of this. Together." Raht glanced at Talon, a conflicted emotion in his eye. "We're friends, right?" Talon concluded.

Raht rose to his feet, staring at Talon before wrenching his eyes away and stepping towards the door. "Sure." He exclaimed. The short young man opened the door, adopting a scornful expression as he closed it behind him. "Friends." He hissed angrily. An elegant vase rest on the table nearest to him, and he swiped it off its perch, his brows furrowing even further when it shattered. "I don't...got friends. Those...the...them bastards think I got friends...they don't seem to realize that I don't got friends. All I gotta do is kill a few, place th' blame on them fools and I'm home free. Gets me fartha away from them soft, weak, pitiful pirates. Talkin' 'bout how they don't hurt nobody..." Raht snorted angrily and strode away, burying his hands in his pockets.

Talon and Hunter were fools. Bastards. Morons. Assholes. They didn't seem to realize the scope of the situation. Raht was the mastermind. Raht was in control. He was the puppet master, the manipulator. It was all he'd ever known, really. Deceit. It was all he'd ever found satisfaction in. Rousing hate and anger in others. Using others to achieve his own goals before taking advantage of their shock and throwing them overboard of stabbing them with that dagger he'd always kept on his belt. Trapping a "friend" in a blazing volcano somewhere in that hellhole Dragonspyre and escaping just before the damned thing exploded.

Deceit was his life.

He didn't intend to throw that away for a couple of naive kids.

He had no friends.

He was Raht, the true captain of the White Owl Pirates. He answered to none, and he went his own path. There was no wrong or right.

Only lies.

It was only right to let everyone else feel the pain of abandonment, too. To feel the sting of betrayal. The stab of deceit.

It was only right to betray the two naive children who couldn't tell right from wrong.


	4. Depravity

**MW: Hey, dudes! Here's the next chapter in DASR Revised! This chapter deals with the lives of Talon and Hunter following their escape plan and introduces a few new characters who affect these boys' lives greatly! Enjoy, and don't forget to rate and review.**

* * *

><p><strong>4 - Depravity <strong>

Hunter didn't like fire.

He was afraid of it, in fact. He liked electricity-he wouldn't have attempted Divination otherwise-but fire scared him.

It scared him now. He was running through it, inches away from his older brother who continued to yell, "Push through, Hunter! C'mon, we're almost there!" Hunter couldn't actually see where he was running, having been blinded by the smoke moments earlier, but he could've sworn that at one point he'd run sideways and nearly thrown himself into the blaze.

His boots weren't even touching the wood on the deck floor. He was flying through the flames, through open space, and his speed increased with his fear. Before he knew it, he hit an object, and his fear overwhelmed him.

Without warning, he gave a shriek and threw his full force forward, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth frozen in the form of a yell. The...thing he'd crushed himself against grunted before giving way. He heard it hit the ground and he was thrown into the air. He opened his eyes in time to see the entirety of the ocean careening towards his face. The world shook as he attempted to twist his body mid-fall, but his muscles and his tendons screamed at him, and pain arced through his back as he hit the water. He barely had time to let out an agonized yell before salt engulfed his lungs and he began to drown.

Hunter kicked and flailed wildly. The salt infiltrated his eyes, seeping into his tear glands and setting his eyes on fire. He squeezed them shut, his legs writhing, hands rising to assuage the pain in his eyes. He could've sworn he heard a voice command him to stand still, and he would've _tried_ to escape, but a boot to the face changed his mind and forced him to succumb to unconsciousness.

Talon carried the unconscious form of Hunter away from tfhe blazing ship, giving it one last pitiable glance, before resuming his walk.

_Where the hell is Raht?_

"What the hell happened to the White Owls..?" Talon whispered aloud, staring out into the emptiness of the Wilds. He shook his head dismissively and hefted Hunter in his arms with a soft grunt. "C'mon, kid, let's get you to Ravenwood."

He started a brisk stride towards the forest, hustling through foliage and brushing stray branches as to keep his view fairly unobstructed. He had seen Ravenwood from the ship after Raht had concocted the plan to "escape", and had figured that the easiest way to get there was through the Wilds.

Talon sighed to himself. Guilt battered his shoulders. The thought of the White Owl Pirates drifted through his conscience, and he gritted his teeth, conflicted. The crew was almost like his family. He didn't love them, but he'd become so used to their presence that it was almost painful to leave. But in the end, he got what he'd wanted since the day he'd arrived. Solace. Freedom. He would be fine once he got to Ravenwood. He could stay there with Hunter, maybe even learn a little magic.

It was what he'd always wanted...right?

Maybe not. It didn't feel satisfying. He wasn't...he wasn't happy.

Talon gritted his teeth and pushed through the brush, pausing at regular intervals as loud shouts and yells carried to his ears. He stopped abruptly, Hunter stirring in his arms. His ears twitched, straining to hear the voices.

"-said it was this way-" Talon heard. He raised an eyebrow in confusion and shook Hunter.

"Get up," Talon murmured to his brother, dropping him into a rose bush below. Hunter yelped and leaped to his feet, grabbing at his back, but was silenced by a punch to the gut. The voices were calm now.

"See what you did?" Talon asked, his voice louder than it shouldn't been. He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Wait.

Hunter heard footsteps. He swore softly.

Without warning, Talon was grabbed by the arm and yanked from his place on the dirt. The guard yelled something incoherent and pulled Talon towards him, glaring angrily and shouting something else that Hunter was unable to understand. Talon spat out a retort in return and the guard's expression darkened. He was too overwhelmed with horror and confusion. He let out a yelp, and Hunter barely had time to duck under the cover of the rose bush as Talon was spun around and shoved to the ground. "Hunter..!" Talon managed to yell, before he took the butt of a spear to the head. He crumpled under the force of the blow.

"That's him, alright," a guard noted, staring at Talon's limp form.

Hunter's eyes widened, his view limited, trying to peek around the rosebush's thorns, but not wanting to risk it. So that's where Raht was. Damn.

The second guard shrugged. "That other kid-the short one-said he had black hair and red eyes. Said he would cut through the forest with another kid and then the two of them would sack Ravenwood."

The first guard whistled in awe. "Damn."

"Yeah."

"Let's take him before he gets up."

The second guard held up a hand. "Wait," he began. "Where's the other kid?"

Hunter ran.

He heard the footsteps of his pursuers, heard the pounding of his heart in his chest.

He didn't wait for the guards to register where he was, who he was or what he was doing, but he sprinted, pouring all of his strength into his legs, leaping over thorn-filled bushes and narrowly leaping out of the way of trees. He threw his arms in front of his face every now and then, protecting as much of himself as he could from branches and twigs that cut into his flesh as if it were butter.

Hunter swore his foot catching on a small stone, sending him sprawling. He felt as if some sort of lightning bolt sailed over his head, but he had no time to ponder the thought. He tumbled forwards, crashing into a tree trunk and losing his grip on consciousness. He struggled to reach for something; anything, willing himself to stay awake, convincing himself that this was all just a dream and Talon would be there to grab his hand and embrace him with all the love a brother could give.

He felt a warm hand grip his own before he decided he couldn't hold on anymore and removed his vice-like grip from the world.

James Duskstone gave a small grunt as he hefted the young, but heavy boy onto his shoulder and trudged through the brush. "Found him," he called, hearing footsteps accompanied by the sound of grating metal. He was greeted by two panting, red-faced guards. Who sighed in relief.

"Perfect, sir. As they say, you are the best." One of the two men exclaimed, grinning slightly. "We have the other, so this'll be great."

James chuckled, his face flushing. "I try, y'know.." He mumbled softly, following the guards back towards Ravenwood. "Where's the other kid?"

"He's right where we left him, sir. He hasn't woken up in a half hour."

James nodded to himself. "Let's hope he's still where you left him...what's he look like?" He inquired, suddenly curious. He brushed a few blond strands from his eyes, the violet irises mixing beautifully with his striking black pupils. James pushed branches and leaves from his path, making sure that the guards were in his view until they stopped suddenly.

One of the guards pointed at an indent in the brush below. "That," he murmured.

James gave a slightly approving nod. Black hair, dark chocolate skin, dry and cracked at the elbows, scratches along the arms...seemed like he'd been in a fight. Burn marks were scattered across his arms and legs and his already bland outfit was torn in multiple places, revealing more scars, scratches and wounds beneath. "Roll him over, Fallon." James called to the shorter of the two men.

Fallon, as he was called, pushed at Talon's body with his foot, grunting and cursing softly in annoyance before managing to place his metal-tipped boot into a spot on the young man's armpit, and lifting his foot, effectively rolling him over.

James now had a good look at the child's face, and he frowned slightly. "They don't look alike," he noted.

"What?" The second guard asked, slightly surprised.

"Well, this one...his skin is a dark brown, almost like chocolate, and his hair is a jet-black, right? And he almost looks...angry. And this other one here-" he hefted Hunter again with a grunt to draw attention to his captive. "-has brown hair and his skin looks a bit lighter."

"But...that short boy, the one who reported the crime...didn't he say they were in cohorts? And that they looked related?He said the lighter boy was just a little lighter, but not that his skin was like cream." Fallon inquired, adopting a confused expression.

James shrugged. "Maybe they were in cohorts...or maybe this one that I have-the one with the few wounds-betrayed the other in order to escape. That's why he ran. See, the one you two have-the darker skinned one-has wounds all over him, but this one here-the lighter one-only has about ten bruises and cuts total. He looks less injured."

Fallon put his hand to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I'm not sure. Everything you said seems so plausible, sir."

James sniffed and rubbed his nose. "It's getting late. I'll have Professor Balestrom see what he can do with this one. Make sure you detain the injured one. We can interrogate him when he comes to, and if he doesn't provide us with information, we'll have to keep him for attacking an unarmed child and destroying a civilian ship along with the civilians."

"Shouldn't we put them both in jail, sir?"

"No. It'd be better if we separate them. I have no idea what they can do together, and maybe if the lighter one-the one I have-believes he and his brother are safe, he won't start anything or go looking to free him."

"But why Professor Balestrom? Wouldn't Headmaster Ambrose be a better choice?" Fallon asked as he turned to leave.

James chuckled softly. "We can always shock him a bit if he doesn't tell us what we want. And besides, this kid looks younger. Like he doesn't know about the outside world. If we can keep him in a safe place, then we can mold him into something different. We can make him into something his "brother" didn't want him to be."

Fallon and his colleague nodded in understanding, lifting Talon up and carrying him down the former cobblestone path. They took the left fork, which would take them to Colossus Boulevard where they would be able to detain Talon in Briskbreeze Prison. James took the right fork, heading towards Ravenwood to consult his instructor on the present matter. It all seemed so confusing.

James was good at this. He was good at figuring out things. So why was this so difficult to figure out? None of it made sense. Just about an hour prior, he had met a young boy who claimed that two other boys about his age were wreaking havoc on a civilian ship and that he needed help. Even before that, one of the professors at Ravenwood had fallen seriously ill. What was this...controlled chaos? Was it an elaborate setup? Was it a game to the puppetmaster, the one pulling the strings and laughing with glee behind the scenes?

* * *

><p>Talon's eyes snapped open when the water touched his face. He gave a help and scrambled away from the bucket near him, eyes wide with fear, chest heaving with innate exertion. The guard holding the bucket in front of him chuckled. "C'mon, kid, get up. It's time to eat."<p>

Talon said nothing, his brain shaking uncontrollably with the effort to process all that had happened. He was carrying Hunter. Hunter jumped through the fire and then Talon followed him, but was forced to knock him unconscious when he began flail and drown. Hunter couldn't swim, either. Then, once they were out of the water, he carried Hunter to Ravenwood, but they stopped because of the approaching guards. They hid behind a rosebush and then-

His head seemed to rattle as if remembering the pain. The butt of the spear to the skull...it hurt more than it should've. Where was Hunter? "...Brother..?" He mumbled, his speech slightly slurred. His lips felt dry, even after the water had been spilled onto him. His tongue felt painful as he slid it over his teeth in slight thought, and he winced. His teeth hurt.

The guard scoffed. "Brother? You mean the other kid we brought in? He's safe, in Ravenwood with the Diviner, Duskstone."

"Ravenwood..." Talon murmured. Ravenwood would've kept them both safe from prying eyes and-if need be-Raht. But here he was now, in a dank room, the only open spaces in the room barred and locked so that he remained unable to escape. Not like he could, anyhow.

The guard was beginning to grow impatient. He unlocked the cell door and his gauntleted hand slid around Talon's bicep, and he hauled the young boy to his feet, shoving him forwards. "Time to eat," he stated fiercely, emphasis placed precisely on each word as to make the fact that Talon was a prisoner clearer.

Talon gave a sharp glare but remained silent and shuffled forwards, hands hung in front of his body, attached by a bracelet-like contraption. It hurt. His wrists felt cold...frozen, even. Had he shoved his wrists in the snow and left them there for hours, laughing even as the frigid, frozen water began to gnaw at his skin with the bite of a wyvern, laughing in a fit of sadistic pleasure-if snow was sentient-as the once rich chocolate skin gradually became a deep azure hue and shattered at the slightest touch? He shook his head to rid himself of metaphors and unanswered questions that lingered in his mind and stopped when the guard grabbed his shoulder. A finger drew his attention the the room before him-a cafeteria-like area that was filled with prisoners, all in tattered rags of their own, handcuffed but able to move their wrists enough to pull trays and eat food. The guard shoved him forwards. "Hurry up and eat. When you finish eating, get in line and you'll be back in your cell."

Talon stood, slightly dazed before he began to shamble aimlessly towards the line of people gathered in front of the serving area. A young girl spooned what smelled like food but looked more like maggots from large pots in front of her. She looked to be about Talon's age, and her long locks of white hair had been tied into a sloppy bun. Her eyes were a soft whitish-blue, and she glanced at him as he passed, their eyes meeting. He stared at her for seconds longer than he should have, until he was nudged forwards by a prisoner behind him.

He glared sharply at the man who had nudged him, but shuffled forwards anyways, grabbing a tray and holding it in front of him, thrusting it forward, pleading for food. Instead of food, the girl put a finger to her lips and gave him a soft smile. Talon remained confused, his face set in an expression of wonder and shock as the other prisoners shoved him down the line. He was pushed out of line and stumbled slightly, catching his balance before he plummeted to the floor. (Which wasn't all that clean.). He stared blankly at his empty tray and glanced at the door to the cafeteria longingly. The angry guard sprang to his mind, and Talon snarled under his breath and took a seat at an empty table, staring blankly at the tray in front of him. Thoughts began to race through his mind, an attempt to process what had happened in the past month.

Lucas was dead. He had killed him. Talon had killed a person with his own hands, and yet...he felt nothing. Not even emptiness. Nothing.

He and Hunter had fled their house and wandered until they came across a ship they figured they could loiter on and salvage some food. Instead, they were captured, and turned into pirates themselves. Or at least, that's what it felt like. Then, when they had made plans to escape, there was a sudden fire when Talon and Hunter were stuffing what they wanted to take with them into a bag, forcing them to forsake the items and run. They managed to escape the ship, although Hunter almost drowned, and would've made it safely to Ravenwood if the guards hadn't arrived. Talon and Hunter hid behind a bush, but the authorities had already been drawn to their location during Talon's attempt to lift Hunter from unconsciousness, and knocked Talon unconscious as Hunter fled. He knew that much.

He had woken in a cell, greeted by a faceful of frigid water and a stern glare from the guard who had poured the water into his eyes. Then he was led to the cafeteria and the girl hadn't served him food and instead given him a smile and a gesture that told him to be quiet.

"What the fuck..?" Talon began softly, lifting his cuffed hands to stare at them. Tears streamed down his face, which contorted to form an expression of anger mixed with fear. He exploded suddenly, throwing the tray onto the floor and slamming his clenched fists into the table repeatedly, curses and words of self-depreciation, hatred and raw rage spilling from his throat like vomit. He screamed, unaware of the tears running down his face or the attention that he had drawn. He was afraid, and he didn't hesitate to express himself. He was filled with sorrow, and he didn't hesitate to express himself.

He had been through so much in such a short time, and he barely even understood half of what was going on, no less. He had no idea how to adapt to his life in jail. He had no idea how to adapt to the voice in his head. He had no idea how to adapt to the loss of his brother. He was confused, and he didn't know how to express himself.

He didn't know anything anymore.

Talon fell to his knees, his head tilted towards the ceiling, his eyes bleak and aimless, tears hardening on his face. He let out an agonised howl before curling into a tight ball, sobbing uncontrollably. The chains on his handcuffs rattling, a dull note that seemed to have no tone whatsoever. He could feel the stares of the other inmates on his back, and he pushed his knees closer to his chest, intent on compressing his woes; intent on wallowing in sorrow until it vanished miraculously-which it most likely wouldn't-but Talon was in no state to not believe in miracles.

A hand brushed against his back, but he still did not uncurl. "Hi," the owner of the hand spoke, her voice sounding akin to the "middle C" on a keyboard. Talon remained curled in a ball, but he managed to choke out a response.

"You-food..." He coughed, swallowing and beginning the reattempt. "You...didn't give me...food," he mumbled finally.

"Maggots aren't healthy for growing boys like you," she answered, running her hand up and down his back in a comforting manner, a soft smile on her face.

"Why?" Talon inquired, uncurling slightly.

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you give me food?"

Her voice was shy, and she averted her eyes, staring at the ceiling. "I...planned to come sit and eat with you...but after that little outburst..let's just say that the warden doesn't take kindly to loud noises. At all." She answered, taking a seat next to him. "I'm Valkyrie, by the way. What's your name?"

Talon uncurled fully, and rolled over to stare at her. Well, now he felt strange, having just suffered a full-out breakdown in front of one of the cutest girls he'd ever seen-provided that he'd only ever spent time with his mother, Astra and her own mother-which destroyed all forms of "coolness". "I'm...Talon," he answered, his eyes finding the floor. "...Sorry." He concluded finally, glancing up at her sheepishly.

She smiled slightly, glancing at him shyly. "Hey, Talon..." She whispered, her voice nearly cracking. He stared at her, confused. She seemed...afraid. He raised an eyebrow, and she continued, albeit pausing continuously. "I wanted to eat with you-don't think I'm weird or anything-but I didn't get to because of your...little tantrum. Not-not to say that it wasn't bad..! But-I-erm-can...can I eat with you everyday? For as long as you're here?"

Talon blushed, the red visible on his dark skin. He hadn't felt this...this...craving in a long time. Ever since Astra, at least. He began to nod, and a smile slowly spread across her face. They were interrupted by the warden, however, as he burst through the cafeteria doors, his eyes a cold steel, his mouth contorted into a snarl.

"Back into your cells, the lot of you!" He yelled, his voice carrying for what seemed like miles. "All you scum don't get food for the next three days! It'll teach you bastards not to think of this place like your home. This is hell, and this is where you'll stay! Now get up and get back into those goddamn boxes!"

Talon glanced at Valkyrie, who waved and gave him a small smile. He rose to his feet and followed the other prisoners out of the door, shuffling towards the cafeteria entrance. The same guard that had escorted him to the cafeteria moved towards him, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him back towards his cell. A quick look around and Talon noticed that every prisoner was being hauled to their cells by guards who seemed to have had bad days overall. Potential bladder problems (spawned from guarding all day) and angry bosses didn't sound like a great combination.

He was shoved forwards into his cell, and he stumbled slightly, but caught himself, and gave a long sigh, pushing himself against the wall and sinking into a sitting position.

Wow. A girl had confessed to him. For the second time in his life, someone actually liked him. This feeling he felt towards Valkyrie...this...want...he hadn't felt it in a long time. Not since-

Not since Astra.

Talon gritted his teeth and slammed his fist against the wall, cringing slightly but fighting the pain. He loved Astra. But what Hunter had said just hours before they'd fled the White Owl pirate ship began to sink in. Maybe she was gone. Maybe she wasn't coming back.

Maybe it was for the best.

He sighed. Maybe it was for the best... Right. He could start anew. Forget about her. Forget what she had done to him-forget how she made him feel; what he did to find her...

Keys rattled in the distance. Talon seemed to snap from his daze-like state, standing erect in slight, momentary shock before he rushed towards his bars.

The guard neared his cell with another captive. Talon remembered seeing up to three prisoners in one cell, and glanced around, finally realising how spacious the cell was.

The captive looked to be about Talon's age, and a female. She wasn't skinny by any means, in fact, her hips were wide and her curves were accented by the armor she wore. Talon was unable to see her eyes, but through the dim light, he could tell that her hair was a dark red, maybe even black. She was mumbling something under her breath, and Talon backed away as the guard neared the cell and then opened it, shoving the girl inside, closing the door and locking it.

The guard gave Talon a wink. "She's all yours now, kid. Just watch for that armor."

It took Talon a moment to process what the guard had said. "What the fu-hey!" He yelled after the guard, who laughed jovially and rounded the corner.

Talon shook his head dismissively, and turned to the girl in the cell with him upon hearing her handcuff chains rattle and something hit the floor, the noise a dull, metallic sound. "Crazy. Isn't it-" he began, but stopped abruptly as she rubbed her wrists, the handcuffs on the ground. The metallic substance coating her body receding to reveal her creamy ivory skin.

She looked up after kicking the handcuffs aside, glancing at him. Her eyes were odd. One of them was a deep hazel, and Talon felt his brain explode as the image of her left eye was framed into his mind. Her right eye, on the contrary, was a vibrant blue, the pupil a highly unusual silver. Pieces of metal seemed to float in her eye. Talon was captivated, but then, he caught wind of what she was mumbling, and he leaned closer to hear her. She looked dazed, and her eyes burned holes in his chest into the wall that he was standing in front of. "-Talon," she mumbled softly. "Talon..."

His eyes widened in shock, and fear invaded his mind, a parasite that feasted on his sanity and took hold of his mind entirely, whispering to him. Then he realized that it wasn't fear, it was "Thalomir".

_**Do you feel it yet? **_

"Astra..?" Talon whispered.

Where would this road lead?


	5. Side Chapter: Memories

**MW: Well, here's the next chapter! This chapter is actually a "side-chapter", or a chapter which is meant to be ambiguous but connect the dots between the pre-timeskip and the post-timeskip. It features various flashbacks from Talon and Hunter. EnJoY! Also, just as notice, I will be doing two more of these side chapters-one for Astra and one to introduce Team Immortal-to fill in blanks during the time skip. James will be f****eatured in his own side chapter soon enough and thank you all for helping!**

**Since To Survive in the Wild is a follow-up story, I will be introducing some OCs submitted in the side chapters as well since they are also important to the story, no matter how minor, and important to character developments. You may be thinking, "But we've only touched on a few characters and they haven't changed Talon all that much." Actually, they have and will. Talon is commended for withstanding this much pain and anger directed towards him or that he directs towards others, but in the end, it all shapes him into the man he is by the end of the story. **

**Hint: The reason behind the title will be heavily alluded to a number of times throughout the story, especially during scenes of great sentiment, so keep track of that. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Side Chapter: Memories<strong>

"Just tell me what happened and I won't have to resort to any...violent methods."

Hunter stared at the blonde young man in front of him, his eyes glazed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it immediately. He was tied to a chair, hands bound behind his back. His legs and his torso were unbound. The chair was made of some cold material, something that kept Hunter awake. Assuming it was metal, he looked around. He was in a classroom. The walls were painted a deep violet with streaks of lavender glazing the darker shade. There were lightning bolts layered over the purple in an extravagant fashion.

Hunter had read about the Ravenwood schools of magic and the captivating appearance of the room, but he'd never expected to be seated in the Divination classroom. It was a dream, pulled from his mind by an invisible force and placed into the current situation.

James glared at him, eyes sparkling dangerously. "What do you know? What connection do you have to that other kid? What happened to the ship? What were you running from?"

"Fu..." Hunter began, the words dying on his lips. He couldn't feel his face. He felt as if he were drugged heavily, but there wasn't really anything substantial he would've been able to do.

James sighed and shook his head in annoyance, his fingertips brushing against Hunter's wrist. Electricity sparked across the surface of his nails and arced towards Hunter's forearm, sinking into the flesh, causing the younger boy's eyes to widen and his body to stiffen.

"Tell me everything you know," James repeated, sitting down across from Hunter, arms folded across his chest. "Why were you running? Where were you going? What are you? Who are you? Tell me, dammit!" He exploded, slamming his fist into the table in utter exasperation. The table was old and wizened; a relic of the past, and thus, oak splintered and cracked beneath James' clenched fist, and he inhaled deeply.

Hunter stared blankly. "Why do you care? After all, we mean nothing to you. We did nothing to you. What does it matter? Where's my brother?"

"For all I care, your brother is going to rot. What did you do?" James snorted incredulously. "You and your 'brother' burnt down a civilian ship headed towards Ravenwood and then you attempted to sneak inside without any recognition of any kind. You kill innocents and you expect to be let into Ravenwood at the clap of a hand?" The air began to smell burnt and Hunter wrinkled his face.

"What are you talking about? We were never on a civilian ship. That was a pirate ship! For the love of...just let me see my brother!" Hunter yelled in response.

James sent another electric jolt through the boy, who gritted his teeth and glared. "Don't lie to me! The witness gave us accurate descriptions of you and your brother. He said you were on a civilian ship. We saw the smoke, even from here. We know what you were trying to do!"

"The wit...what witness!?" Hunter asked, his voice rising in pitch. "There was no one else on there besides me, Talon and Rah-oh..." He murmured finally, his mind set on what had taken place.

Raht had betrayed them. He had betrayed them all.

Hunter's eyes narrowed as he stared blankly at the floor. The silence caused his face to contort into an expression of anger, and he began to yell. "Fuck! Shit! Goddammit! I'll kill you, Raht! I'll kill you!" He flailed and writhed within his restraints, adrenaline building up within his body. He leaned forwards, pushed back against the floor and threw himself backwards, hoping to crush the chair so he could escape.

James yelled something incoherent, but Hunter could no longer hear. His ears were filled with the rush of blood as the chair hit the ground and shattered begrudgingly. Hunter's hands were still bound, but his legs were free. He dashed towards the door as armed guards burst through.

Hunter gritted his teeth and imagined himself frying them with electricity. He closed his eyes for a split second, his brow furrowed in concentration.

A bolt of raw, untamed lightning arced from Hunter's body towards the first oncoming guard and struck him square in the nose, eliciting a series of agonizing, bloodcurdling screams from the man as he clawed at his flesh as is began to burn. The other guards turned to their comrade before remembering that Hunter was the threat.

Hunter darted around them, hands still bound, running towards anywhere he could find safety. Instead of looking ahead of him, he looked behind to catch a glimpse of his pursuers and failed to the the humanoid frog before him. Hunter knew there were other races besides humans, but he had never seen a frog, nonetheless one in a purple suit.

The young boy crashed into the frog, who seemed to stand stock still as Hunter bumped into him, hitting him powerfully before stumbling back, dazed by the effect.

"What do we have here?" Halston Balestrom's high-pitched voice struck through the evening silence.

Hunter's eyes widened, narrowed and he muttered something incoherent. He was afraid. Shaking. But his desire for freedom overwhelmed his fear.

Balestrom caught on. "So you're the fugitive we captured today? With that other boy, yes?"

Hunter said nothing.

"Well, no matter! It seems you have potential. I wonder about the other boy. I doubt the city will be willing to let him go now they you've caused this ruckus. How do you know Divination?"

"Self-taught..." The boy grumbled.

Balestrom clapped his hands together delightfully. "How wonderful! Well, how would you like the idea of becoming my student?"

Hunter's eyes widened. "You...you don't want to capture me? You don't want answers? You think I'm innocent?" He asked, incredulous. The yells of the now recovering guard were behind him. He wasn't too far from the classroom, but enough to give his pursuers an exercise.

The frog scoffed. "Innocent, good heavens, no. I merely want to turn your potential into power. After all, even the worst of people can be turned into the greatest of heroes."

"What about my brother?" Hunter suddenly asked, eyes narrowing. "What will you do to him?"

Balestrom paused for a time, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Hunter stared blankly, ignoring the footsteps of the now recovered guards. Balestrom held out hand to the boy, his eyes sparkling delightfully.

"Don't you want the power to save him?"

Where did this road lead?

* * *

><p>"What are you?" Talon's voice rang out through the cell, and the sleeping Astra twitched, but did not awaken.<p>

_**Have you not heard of me? Valdus likes to tell stories.**_

"No, I've heard of you, it's just that-"

_**Just what, child?**_

"...If you really were Thalomir, wouldn't you be trying to kill me? My father...dad...always told me that you destroy everything in your path. That you're destructive and unrestrained."

_**Destructive? Quite. Unrestrained? Quite. In a horrendous state of mind? Hardly. No, child. I am you.**_

"What does that mean? I'm me. I don't want you. I don't need you. Tell me..!" Talon's voice rose and Astra rolled over in annoyance.

_**Enough. You will know when you are ready.**_

"Stop with all this prophetical stuff, damn you! I'm ready now! I want to know now!" He yelled and Astra's eyes snapped open, but she didn't react. Instead, her heterochromic eyes fell on Talon, and she watched him with interest.

Thalomir didn't respond and Talon was left to wallow in his own anger. Failing to notice Astra, he curled into a ball and leaned against the wall of the cell, muttering her name and closing his eyes tightly.

"Astra..." He murmured repeatedly, then, "I miss you."

_I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you._

_Astra. Astra. I miss you. Astra. Astra. Astra._

The words hit her hard, and although she seemingly had no ideas what he was talking about, her head began to throb painfully, soft, agonising groans escaping her lips. Her head began splitting open as a memory attempted to resurface, and as she began to scream, the pain worsened and the memory broke through and made its way to her mind, the mind which had been tormented, clogged with false thoughts, like dreams, a false reality which had never existed, thoughts that were her own, yet weren't.

The memory broke.

As it pushed its way to the front of her thoughts, it cracked. Fragments slipped through Astra's mind, and she tried to scream as the fragmented memories flashed past her eyes as if she was really there, but no sound escaped and she felt hollow and empty.

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Valkyrie," Talon hissed through gritted teeth the next day. "It just...it just makes me so...so happy that's she's back." He stole a glance behind him, where Astra sat at her own table, poking at the substance on her plate with a fork. She made a disgusted face, and Talon couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes welling up with tears.<p>

It had been almost a month since Talon had first arrived at the prison, a month since he had talked to Valkyrie; a month since she had helped him return to his emotions, bringing out his kindness and temporarily subduing his hate even in a hellhole like prison.

Valkyrie stared at Talon, watched as he observed Astra, his eyes almost dreamy, and bit her tongue. It wasn't as if she liked him, right? She'd only met him. She'd only taken pity on him...right? But Valkyrie couldn't deny the feeling of warmth she felt burn bright in her chest when he grinned at her, the eyes that made her heart flutter, and the kindness he somehow still had that made her want to kiss him.

But she held back.

She knew he loved Astra. She knew that Astra didn't remember him, even after a month. She knew that Astra would probably never love him if he kept going on this way, and it just made her head ache as she realised that Talon was a hopeless romantic.

"Valkyrie," Talon's voice sliced rudely through her thoughts, and she turned to give him a glare, but her frown melted halfway through the movement, as he was staring at her with those damned eyes. They flashed red almost all the time, and they seemed to inspire lust, hate, violence and even love almost simultaneously. Valkyrie hated it. He gave a grin as if he knew what she was thinking. "Can we do this everyday?" He asked, referring to the eating. He leaned closer and his voice lowered so that he was whispering to her over the clamor of plates being cleaned. "Will you eat with me everyday? I like sitting here with you, and it's probably the highlight of my day."

Valkyrie blushed, but then frowned. "Yes. No. I mean, no. I don't know," she confessed. Talon looked dejected, but she pressed forwards anyways. "I wanted to eat here with you. I don't know what I felt, maybe it was pity. I felt something, know that. But now I don't know what I feel. All you talk about is her, all the time, every single day we eat together, and it makes me bite my tongue to keep from saying something stupid, but I've had it. She doesn't remember you. I get that you love her, but you can't keep reassuring yourself that she loves you as well by always faking smiles and talking about her as if she's an angel."

"But-" Talon began, but Valkyrie wasn't done.

"Talon, you have to stop. You have to get over her. She doesn't love you and I don't know if she ever will. I-" She stopped abruptly as Talon hung his head and slammed his fist on the table.

"Stop." He hissed through gritted teeth, his body trembling with something akin to anger. "Don't talk about her any more."

Valkyrie reached towards him, but stopped halfway. The guard's voice calling the prisoners to return was faint in her ears. Talon stood up, not bothering to look at her, and began to move away.

Within a split second, Valkyrie had grabbed his arm firmly, refusing to let go. He whirled around, a glare already placed upon his face, but was not expecting the lips that pushed against his own in a swift, but affectionate kiss. He was not expecting the soft hands that cupped his face, wasn't expecting her to pull him closer; he wasn't even expecting himself to linger that close after a kiss so quick. She briefly pressed her forehead against his, her voice but a whisper, white hair hanging over her vibrant blue eyes.

"If you still don't get it," she murmured. "I'm telling you that I like you."

Talon was silent as he began to back away towards the guard who herded everyone out of the door. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

Valkyrie nodded. "Make a decision, Talon."

"What?" He asked. But by then, she had turned away and Talon was pushed by the flow of inmates out the door, and a guard grabbed his arm and led him to his cell, as the routine had been for past months.

A decision?

What was Valkyrie talking about? Talon was in prison; there were no decisions to be made. Prison wasn't death, but it was close enough. Years of being cooped up in a dank metal box, only leaving to glance at the afternoon rays of sunshine and to fill your stomach with some sort of flavourless food that looked more akin to a pile of insects. But decisions? The only decision Talon made in prison was his choice to survive.

But what was Valkyrie talking about? And that kiss...he unconsciously moved his fingers to touch his lips as if he would have a sudden revelation or idea of what she had meant by anything she had told him in those minutes, really.

It was all so confusing.

He crawled into his cell. Desperate, confused and frankly out of options, he closed his eyes, a vain attempt to achieve serenity through peace. He gave up and consulted Thalomir. "What do you think?" He inquired, and the being inside him awoke immediately.

_**Is it not obvious?**_

"What do you mean? Nothing's obvious with women."

_**You truly do not realize how she feels?**_

"No."

Thalomir scoffed, his next words mumbled lowly.

_**Are you really my descendant?**_

Talon shrugged to himself. "How do you expect me to know? It isn't like I know you're the real deal. My dad told me Thalomir was dead, and has been for a long time."

_**That is true, yes.**_

"Then why do I hear your voice? Why do you make me so miserable? Why is it that you promise me power yet present me with none?"

_**Because you haven't proved yourself. Well, at least, not as of late.**_

"Prove myself? What do you-"

_**You proved yourself when you mauled Lucas so eagerly. You proved yourself when you showed your brother compassion and when you refused to leave without him. You proved yourself when you resisted the harsh system of a prison for wizards. But now, you are nothing. Your potential wanes and your moods change every second you yield to the system. You have refused my offers, failed to accept me as your ascendant and now you consult me for what? Advice on women? You are pathetic.**_

"Shut up!" Talon roared in retaliation. "It's not like you can do any better for yourself. You tried to kill your own son, and you turned against your friends! I'm only thirteen, it isn't like I know how to deal with all this! Just a short while ago I was at home with my brother and my abusive stepfather, out stealing some stuff in an act of defiance like I usually do! Then the thought of killing him suddenly comes over me-"

_**I gave you that thought, boy. I willed it. You wanted it, I merely gave you the push you needed.**_

"-Then you come talking to me about killing him and I go ahead and do it because of you and then his body just vanishes and the next thing I know, me and Hunter are on the run and then we're captured by a band of pirates just because we wanted some food! Then somehow we befriend them along with a short kid who tells us that we can escape and a month later, we get out but the ship is ablaze and we have to run to Ravenwood, and then Hunter almost drowns and then I get him out and we start heading there and then guards found us and then here I am, with no clue where my brother is, my 'long lost' semi-girlfriend with no memory of who I am, and some girl who just kissed me. Pathetic? Yeah, I'd guess so. But to me, this has been hell. And now I'm stuck in here for something I never did. Do I want power? Do I want power to get away from all of this?" Talon scoffed before continuing. "What a stupid question. Of course I want power; if you have it, give it to me."

_**Why?**_

"Why?" Talon asked again, incredulous. "I want it because I want to survive. I want redemption. Vengeance. So fuck you, and fuck your knowledge and your power. If you won't give it to me, then I'll get it on my own."

Talon could feel Thalomir's grin in the back of his mind. The boy scowled in response. "You don't control me..." He mumbled quietly.

_**Very well, boy. Seek out Dworgyn. Once you find him, speak to me. He will give you what you so desire.**_

"Doe-who?"

_**Dworgyn. Enough of this prattle. Speak to me when you find him.**_

"Wait-" But Thalomir had retreated into Talon's subconscious, reluctant to emerge in case Talon wanted advice on women. Talon sighed and shook his head again. "This is all too confusing..."

* * *

><p>"Why are are you leaving me?" Talon inquired, his voice low and hushed. It was at night, and she's come to visit him in his cell. Astra had been moved after her last attempt to strangle him to death, so he was alone. The bars were spread enough so she could fit her head and part of her shoulders through. The cell only shrunk when prisoners attempted escape anyways.<p>

Tears built up in Valkyrie's eyes, and she gave a sad smile. "I have to go, Talon. I need this. I need power."

"Why?" Talon asked, gripping the bars angrily. "Why are you going?"

"I have to. And besides, you have Astra."

"But she doesn't remember me! Even if I do love her, I can't force anything on her! And I can't deny that I-me and you! Valkyrie, don't go..!" He pleaded, but to no avail.

Valkyrie began to cry, and the tears burst from her eyes, a maddening wave of sadness overwhelming her. She tried her best to smile, but she couldn't. "I...I need you to stay strong," she choked out through soft sobs.

"Valkyrie..." Talon whispered softly. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Please don't go."

This only resulted in more tears and more forced smiles. "Talon, you need to...stay strong. I have to go...I have to!" She cried in anguish, finally giving up and burying her face in her hands.

Talon pried her hands from her face, and she looked up at him, white hair hanging over her eyes in a sloppy manner. She was still beautiful, even when she cried. He brushed his lips against her forehead. "If you have to go, then at least tell me the truth."

Valkyrie stared for a moment before she surged forwards, her lips colliding with his, her own passion consuming her. She didn't care whether he didn't respond, she just needed it right now. But what really surprised her was when he returned the kiss. He kissed back, cupping her face in his hands, pulling her as close as possible through the bars. The tears slid down his own face. He couldn't help the sadness as it pulled him in.

The kiss lasted more than three minutes, if that was even possible, and both were breathless when they finally pulled away. Valkyrie closed her eyes, leaning her head against Talon's forehead. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too." Talon returned. "Stay, Valkyrie."

"I can't, Talon...I can't." Her voice was sad, but a pleading note lingered.

"Are you too embarrassed to ask for another kiss?"

"Maybe," she returned with a slight grin despite the urge to bawl. Her thoughts were tangled, but the only few words that kept her kneeling before Talon's cell forced tears from her eyes.

_Dontleavehimdontdoityouneedhimandheneedsyoupleasedonthurthimkisshimagainjustdontlethimbegdontlethimcrypleaseplease._

Talon brushed his lips against hers teasingly. "When you come back, you'll get one." He stated, embracing her as best he could through the bars.

"I will?" She asked with a smile. Her eyes sparkled, if faintly.

Talon nodded. "Go, Valkyrie. But come back to me. Come back to me when all this is over. Can you?"

She nodded. "I promise."

Talon learned never to make promises that you weren't sure you could keep.

* * *

><p>Hunter sat on the edge of the balcony, staring out into the open. He was silent, and the only sound that accompanied the silence was the patter of the rain against the soft earth. For every drop that hit Hunter, a spark of electricity bounced from his figure. In the past three years he'd trained with Halston Balestrom, he'd gained power. Power capable of rivalling most of the other apprentices; capable of rivalling most master wizard candidates.<p>

But it wasn't enough.

He didn't have enough power yet.

It was never enough, no matter what he did. Hunter was never able to obtain what he had strived for. He sighed, his eyes wandering to the lake again, as the rain rippled across the water. Remembering his earlier conversation with his brother during his weekly jail visit, Hunter's face became a scowl.

"_Power, huh?" Talon had asked, his voice dreamy, his eyes wandering._

_"Yeah," Hunter murmured. "I need it. I need to get it. But how?"_

_Talon shrugged. "Look for it, Hunter. Don't expect it to be given to you. If you don't get it, then go out and steal it. Bargain for it. Fight for it. If power is so important to you, then go out and find it. This is your mission. Your purpose."_

Purpose, huh..? As if. Purposes weren't real. There was no such thing. You either did or you didn't. But Hunter was determined. He was going to get power, one way or another.

Even if it killed him.

Hunter sighed, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. Was his journey fruitless? Would he really be able to save Talon? Or at least start anew once this was all over? He ran a finger through his dark brown hair, then drew his hand away. An idea sprang to his mind. Maybe he was doing it wrong. Maybe he was doing everything wrong.

Eager to find out, he scrambled to his feet and pointed at the nearest tile on the brick road, compressing his power into the tip of his index finger, focusing his mana to release a minute wild bolt. The tiny bolt of electricity shot forth from his finger, striking the tile and shattering it along with fifteen others near it. No...it appeared that he'd been practicing, and he was following the professor's teachings…

He ran his fingers through his hair again. Maybe he needed a physical change? To boost his self-esteem? Professor Balestrom had always mentioned that a boost in confidence increased depth of one's mana pool.

Hunter didn't really like his brown hair. It didn't...fit.

Maybe a red would do?

* * *

><p>"Why can't you just stay away? I found Dworgyn already, and he said he'd teach me things. Said he'd give me the power I need to fix everything. I don't need you anymore, so why can't you just go and never come back?"<p>

_**Are you that oblivious? I am Thalomir, boy. I am an overlord, a conqueror, a destroyer of species and galaxies. I am the spawn of a flawed existence and the god of your mind. I am your ancestor and now I reside within you, because I wished it so. I cannot leave no matter how much I desire it.**_

"I didn't understand any of that."

_**You will in due time, child. But until your fate has been decided, keep your mouth shut and do not ridicule me.**_

Talon scoffed but said nothing.

Silence lingered within the cell, and then Talon suddenly asked, "Does having you in my head make me like you?"

_**No, but in many ways, we are alike. We are both angry. Both sorrowful. Both afraid. Embrace me-accept me-and we can be rid of this suffering, though I will admit that it may take time.**_

Talon paused. "What'll happen to me if I embrace you?"

_**I am unsure.**_

"Do you think it'll hurt?"

_**You've been through worse, Talon.**_

"...You finally said my name," Talon answered nonchalantly.

_**So I did.**_

Talon smiled softly, inhaled deeply, and steeled himself. Embracing, huh? That sounded intriguing, but disturbing all the same. "How does this work?"

_**Imagine us merging. Welcome me as another part of you. I can ease you into it.**_

"I don't-" Talon began, but stopped abruptly as his mind began to burn painfully. He closed his eyes, but saw bright lights flashing before him, watched as he grew older and older and was welcomed into the light again...

He was seeing the future.

He saw himself kissing a girl-no, a woman-with red hair that eased into a dark brown, a woman clad in a dress of fine silk that was the color of the whiteness he found in the very depths of his mind. Her name was on the tip of his tongue, and he just forced it out as the memory changed.

"As-"

Then he watched, falling silent again as he slipped into a silent rage, his visage calm, his mind bellowing in anguish; watched as he so mirthlessly let the blades of the axe sink into a white-haired girl's stomach, watched as he mourned, poured over her lifeless form, his eyes alone mirroring what he had been forced to burden. Her name also lingered on the tip of his tongue but again, he couldn't force it out.

"Wait-" He tried again.

He watched as he spoke to the one they called Noxus and his siblings, ruffling the young boy's hair as he did so, his grin wide, the rage and hate and pain finally leaving him.

He watched as he cried, cried over everything he had done, everything he couldn't do and everything that was. He cried over the past, present and future; cried for his beloved and cried for his enemies.

Talon watched as he walked down a shadowed road. A road that was hidden by darkness, the negativity that consumed even the most cautious of people. A tunnel, so to speak. He was blanketed in shadow, in evil, in hatred, in anger; blanketed-covered-soothed by pain. He had been through more than he should've. His emotions were an absolute mess. Violence was his first and last resort. He could barely express his love through Astra without touching her. Talon was never the perfect brother that Hunter needed in his life. He figured had made Hunter bitter and resentful; envious of the other perfect families and angry because of their dysfunctional one. Talon was broken, and the path he walked was just as twisted as he.

But was there not always light at the end of a tunnel?

_**Can you see it, Israfel? Your future?**_

* * *

><p><strong>MW: Aaaand that's all for now. Hope you enjoyed, hope it makes sense, and expect more. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me! I want to thank BuBu Winter, The Dimenssionalist, Wolfheart zeFangirl, Fluffy Sakura-kun, Ammaraah01 and James Firecrafter among others for helping me with edits and planning. I would not have gotten this far if not for them. Thanks for the support, and pray for more! Be sure to look forward to more detailed combat, more detailed violence, more detailed romance and more sentiment! <strong>

**THE FEELZ**

**TOO STRONK**

**Review Replies:**

**Hunter Lioncloud: Don't worry, dude! Hunter will have his red hair, he just starts off with brown. I wanted to make the change realistic.**

**James Firecrafter: Oh, yeah. Well, the only reason she was put in his cell was because the other cells were crowded already. This should provide some insight. You'll know more next chapter.**

**Ammaraah01: Gotta love the fluff scenes. And don't bother with the Morganthe thing, I'll find it on my own. If you do want to help, however, edits would work.**

**THANKS AGAIN, GUYS! LOVE YA'LL, SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!**


	6. Side Chapter: Cyrus and Astra

**MW: So, here is the long awaited Astra chapter. If you're wondering what the point of these side chapters is, it's to fill in what happens during the timeskip. The next chapter is a side chapter about Valkyrie and Leif. Anyhow, some questions you may have about this chapter will be answered at the end. Hopefully. And if you're wondering why sometimes the scenes change and don't make sense, they take place over the course of months, days, weeks, years, etc., and they're not meant to make sense, they're meant to be there so you can infer. Anyhow, enjoy! More support and I'll...do something.**

* * *

><p><strong>6 - Side Chapter: Cyrus and Astra<strong>

The fourth day.

She writhed and flailed, screamed and cried even though she knew it was futile. Her arms and legs had been chained to the walls and floor of the tight room, and she lingered in solitude for what felt like months. She was hungry. She could not think. Saliva dripped from the edge of her mouth as it hung open, and her once vibrant hazel eyes were lifeless. If you think the eyes of a woman suffering from depression are dead, then Astra's eyes reflected that lifelessness, that hellishness but then multiplied it by twenty. Her stomach protested with every move she made, and the headache that gripped her skull was something of nightmare. She had lost weight, and her ribs were visible through her skin. She was bare and the cold air emanating from the metal walls and floor chilled her flesh. The once creamy skin was no more, just pale and dry. Although she had lost weight, she was nourished every now and then, only to be deprived once more. She just prayed she'd be able to return to her original state.

Astra was dying.

The only thing that kept her alive was the pieces of obsidian shrapnel swirling around her body before solidifying on various areas on her limbs; a constant pattern that did not break. Endlessness was a drone, a frequency that never seemed to end, like the cycle of life and death. Astra learned enough in her time in the small room. She couldn't move any part of her body, in fact, but she knew what it looked like from glimpses that she'd caught prior to now. Astra learned many things while she was inside that room, screaming and wailing only to be answered with silence. She had learned enough. She had learned hate. She had learned true pain. Astra remembered when he had entered the room in what felt like moments before, and left the memory burning in her mind, terrifying her.

Fallon had stumbled into the room to "give her a check up", but the greasy smile on his face had told her enough. She had screamed, cried, sobbed, soaked her face in tears, but her lip until she drew blood, and thrashed in her bonds as he advanced, his tongue sliding across his lips in anticipation, something which terrified Astra, even more than when his pants hit the ground, the clink of his belt buckle returning her to her senses.

Fight back. She had to fight back.

Astra had bit until he had scars all over his face, but he did not cease. He slapped her several times, whispering her name, voice ominous and sinister, his hand gripping her throat tightly, squeezing the life out of her; spittle flying from his mouth to hit her face, his teeth gritted tightly, and then she felt him inside of her.

_Nonononononono. _

She felt him shift around in attempt to get comfortable, give up and felt his hips shoot upwards and brush against her thighs. Then there was pain and she screamed in anguish. His clawed, demonic-hands gripped her waist and he pulled her down onto him as best he could as he thrust upwards and she continued to scream; the tears wouldn't stop and there was blood, but he didn't stop and Astra was afraid. Fallon moved his hands, roughly kneading her breasts, breaking skin and drawing blood, leaving bite marks, bruises and cuts along her neck, collarbone and around her nipples. Astra couldn't speak for a time, and her mouth just hung agape, frozen in an agonised scream. He knotted his fingers into her hair, pulled as he thrust faster, gave a powerful grunt, and then Astra felt the fluids blast into her. She could move again. She screamed, and began to flail wildly within her binds. He slipped out of her, pulling up his pants, not even bothering to clean the mess of blood, tears, sweat and semen from the floor, turned on his heel and left. He left for his own good. He left because he thought she couldn't afford to kill him. Fallon left because he believed that Astra wouldn't have a fateful meeting with hatred.

* * *

><p>Maybe even days later, Astra looked up as she heard the footsteps echo from the hallway, and her eyes began to burn with hatred, the veins in her eyes more visible than ever, bloodshot eyes moving frantically in a frenzied search for the owner of the noise. A humanoid-looking dog-man with a monocle over his right eye strode in, clad in an ivory lab coat, and a royal blue suit beneath it, a yellow tie adorning his neck. The Marleybonian was followed by Fallon, the greasy man smoothing his hair with his palm and brushing off his coat. Astra's face twisted into an expression of rage, and Arturo Vale shook his head in disapproval.<p>

"Oh, well, this is not right." He glanced downwards, shaking his head again upon seeing the mess on the floor. "Oh, my...well, we can't have my _favourite _girl hanging over all this mess before testing day!" Vale waved his hand behind him. "Take care of this mess, Fallon," he murmured, and the substitute doctor moved in to clean it, muttering something about his masterpiece not being able to take fruition, not before stealing a glance at Astra, only to be rewarded with a glob of spit.

Fallon wiped the bile from his face, the contempt showing through his calm facade, but Astra didn't care. He couldn't hurt her anymore. As long as Vale was watching, Fallon was harmless and vulnerable.

Or so she thought.

Fallon reared back, and gutted her mirthlessly, his fist buried in her stomach. She tried to bend over his fist, an attempt to stave off the pain, but she was chained and couldn't move her arms or legs. She opened her mouth, trying to yell in pain, but coughed violently instead. Fallon drew his clenched fist away slowly, and Astra hung limp, unable to fight back.

"Alright," Arturo Vale's voice rang out in the metal box-like room. "We'll leave her here for now. This is the tenth day she has been without food and water. The prototype is working well. She has her strength still, but your punch seems to have taken the last of it...alright. I'll nourish her personally this time, since you seem to have problems controlling yourself. We'll give her two more days, and if she performs exceptionally, we can restore her to her original health and...thickness and then proceed with the mind wipe."

Fallon coughed slightly. "Can I...touch her..?" He asked, his voice hoarse. He licked his lips, maybe a sign of nervousness, but yet to be confirmed.

Vale sighed. "You always ask that, even when I'm performing experiments. I don't care how malnourished she is, or even how distraught she is-you will not touch her! She is my masterpiece; my prized possession...and she is mine." Vale stared at his subordinate carefully, studying the muscles in Fallon's face as they twitched to form the slightest of frowns. Vale's eyes narrowed. "Did you-" Vale began threateningly, and Fallon hung his head, knowing what was to come next. "You-!" Vale began, but shook his head and sighed. "No more."

The doctor turned back to Astra, giving his assistant a dismissive wave, and closing the door behind him as the younger, human man left. Vale padlocked the door for closure, and opened a small black cabinet, reaching his hand into the cabinet, the shelves of which were cooled which exceptional ice magic, and withdrew his hand, a plate of food in hand. Of course, the food contained some new prototype of Vale's, some new invention that he was about to test out. The smell of steak caused Astra's stomach to growl loudly, an involuntary response as she had been deprived of food and water for over a week now. She opened her eyes, vision swimming.

"Food?" She croaked miserably.

"For you, my dear girl," Vale murmured, and held the plate up to her mouth. He lifted a piece of the neatly cut meat to her mouth. "Open wide," he coaxed, and Astra opened her mouth. The dog-man grinned.

She hadn't felt this relieved before.

And as she chewed the meat, she felt an underlying sense of dread creep up her spine. Little did she know that her precious memories would vanish in due time.

The last word she would utter would be the name of her best crimes, the boy she loved, the adolescent she would give her life for.

"Talon," Astra whispered as she chewed on another piece of meat, feeling the memories slip away from her as she swallowed the food. But she couldn't get enough. She needed more. She was hungry. But she had to stop. The food was doing something. Killing her? No, couldn't be.

It was erasing her memories.

Ultimately...she would obey.

* * *

><p>Cyrus Drake stepped off the train onto the busy streets of Marleybone, welcoming a once temporary home by inhaling the air, digesting the stench and huffing in annoyance. He rubbed his trimmed beard almost thoughtfully, but furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes.<p>

He hated this place.

All the smoke, all the filth in the sky, all the rebels who chose to defy the way of life on other worlds-chose to defy magic itself-turned instead to a crude form of life. Science. Science was disgusting. Science tarnished the Spiral...and science made Cyrus cringe. Science was repulsive.

He shook his head and began at a brisk pace towards the station. He had to call someone. He pushed open the doors of the agency with some reluctance, observing for a few seconds, eyes flitting about the room as the humanoid canines and felines hefted stacks of papers and tested their skills with a baton on a metal post. Cyrus scoffed and surged forwards into the room. He cleared his throat, and immediately, life ceased to exist.

"I'm looking for the captain," he spoke, his voice powerful and commanding. "We need a word."

A female police officer-a cat-went numb and the stack of papers fell from her hands, hitting the floor and blowing apart with ease. Her frightened, wide eyes were fixed on Cyrus, and she didn't dare to pick up the papers.

"In the back!" The captain yelled from behind a pair of closed doors. Cyrus gave a nod as if he expected the captain to be able to see him and strode on to the back room, knocking on the office doors.

There was no response for a while, and Cyrus turned his head to glance around as people began to move again. He noticed a rough-looking young man, with platinum blonde hair, vibrant blue eyes, and dark brown skin, an odd complexion for someone with blonde hair and blue eyes to carry. The boy was carrying a large stack of papers, and seemed to struggle with them. Cyrus attempted to keep a blank face, but caved quickly at the boy's plight and directed the stack into the air with a flick of his wrist. The boy glanced at him fearfully, then back at the papers before a large grin spread across his face and he pointed to a nearby desk. Cyrus gently lowered the papers onto the desk and watched carefully as the boy waved with a smile and ran off, presumably to collect more papers. Cyrus huffed and turned away, trying to feel annoyed, but couldn't help but feel somewhat smug.

The captain of the station finally opened the door, his face brooding. He stepped aside to allow the Conjuror inside and closed the door behind his guest. "Why are you here, Cyrus?" The captain asked, his drooping pug-face a strange thing to look at.

Cyrus stared at the grey, peeling walls instead. "I am here because I have a call I need to make and a question for you."

"Call away. You know how to use the phone box, Cyrus." The captain answered. "What's your question?"

"There are posters-flyers, papers-out for a girl. A child, it looks like. What's going on, Martin?" Cyrus questioned, his voice demanding, yet curious.

Martin sighed. "There's been an increased crime rate recently. People say it's because of this redhead girl."

"What do you mean by recently?"

"...For the past month."

"And you can only sit here and mope? You should be active, Martin! I would declare you a fool, but even that does not seem like enough." Cyrus exclaimed incredulously, unable to hear the words spilling from the captain's maw.

"There is nothing I can do, Cyrus!" Martin exploded. "She is enhanced, enchanted, augmented! She has been changed beyond the point of no return and my officers can do nothing, as we can barely even see her when she breaks into our stores, when she runs out and the rare occasions where she decides to stay and fight. It's been a miracle that you're here because-"

"No." Cyrus firmly declined, but Martin was far from finished.

"-we think you can stop her. Freeze her. Capture her. Melt her mind if you have to, Cyrus! We need your help. Please. We think she might be related to Snaketongue."

Cyrus froze, eyes widening slowly. Snaketongue was a name hadn't heard in years. And it didn't fall on deaf ears. "Robert Snaketongue? That Snaketongue? The old friend I used to drink with? But..." He trailed off, his thoughts derailed.

"I know," Martin responded carefully. "We thought you could help. I would've called you, but you showed without notice."

"Robert Snaketongue..." Cyrus murmured. "Fine." He stated after a drawn out pause. "I will assist you with these...trivial matters."

With that, the Conjuror turned on his heel and left the room.

* * *

><p>Astra sat in a metal chair in a large room, which remained empty in the minutes of silence that passed. She sat there, motionless, mouth slightly ajar, eyelids closed but fluttering weakly. She was bare except for the obsidian metal plates lining her vertebrae and swirling around her body, almost like a protective ribbon that could change both size and weight instantaneously. Her hazel eyes were fixated on the ground. She wasn't hungry anymore. Felt thicker, actually.<p>

She couldn't remember anything.

Well, almost nothing.

One memory rang out true in her mind-the memory of a boy, a boy with hair darker than black and eyes the floor of blood, staring at her as she walked past. His mouth was slightly ajar, and his eyes were wide, following her as she strode by. Although his childlike gaze was only curious, Astra couldn't help but feel the underlying hint of...something else in his eyes. It was as if a darker presence swirled within him; within those endless pools of red... And then a shriek drew her attention away from him. A soft whistle sounded as a wizard on a broom sped towards her, and she could do nothing but watch, frozen in anticipatory shock. Without warning, the red-eyed boy pushed her to the ground, and the tip of the broom slammed into his side, throwing him roughly seven feet backwards where he rolled over and lay limp. She darted over to the boy, who was unconscious, and traced his cheek softly. For a five year old, he had an oddly chiseled jaw and a long scar running from his ear to his chin. He looked at peace unconscious, but Astra knew unconscious was bad. She slammed her fist into his gut and his eyes flew open immediately, and he doubled over, giving an agonised yell before falling limp again.

What was his name?

Astra searched her mind for his name and when she found it, it seemed to explode in her mind, standing out, a beam of light cutting through the haze that was her memories. Her eyes burned with sudden tears and she felt a pain in her stomach, but it didn't matter because she knew his name. And she knew he was important to her. Maybe he was evil and she had to kill him. Maybe he was her secret lover. Maybe he was just a kid she'd met earlier and remembered just...well, just cause.

Talon. Even the name sounded important. It made her feel like she had to protect this boy.

"Talon," she whispered softly. "Talon..." Her eyes opened further, and a spark of life flickered in both eyes.

Talon. Talon. Talon.

"Talon!" She croaked, louder this time. "Talon!"

Talontalontalontalontalontalontalon

"TALON!" She roared this time, life springing back into her eyes. The metal chair snapped in half and she rose to her feet, glaring at the metal door to the room. "Talon..." She murmured softly, the ghost of a smile on her face. "I'm coming, Talon...don't be afraid..." She muttered as she stumbled out of the room.

An alarm sounded the moment her feet touched the ground outside of the metal room and Astra seemed to snap out of her daze, eyes flicking about frantically. Her eyes narrowed as she stared down the darkened corridor, and she broke out into a full sprint, the cybernetic enhancements adding to her speed. She was a blur as she roared past doors and skidded to a halt at the end of the corridor.

The sound of footsteps filled the corridor. Astra whipped her head left, where the source was coming from. She heard a shout and Vale stumbled down the hallway, darting towards her as quickly as he could (Which, quite frankly, was slow.). "Dear girl!" He yelled in somewhat of a panic. Astra stared blankly at him.

"Talon?" She questioned dumbly, not recognizing the man in the obvious dim light of the corridor. "Wait, that can't be, I'm in here with-"

"Girl! Are you alright? Did the memory suppressant work? I came as soon as I heard the alarm! I wouldn't let Fallon in as soon as he volunteered, who knows what he's do to you..." Vale's ears perked up as he felt Astra's body, searching for wounds. Time to check to see that the memory-erasing food-one of his many prototypes-had worked. On the side, he had given the erasing device the ability to implant false memories in those who consumed it, a little...treat Vale had added to assert himself as the test subject's owner. The dog-man inhaled deeply, then exhaled, preparing himself for some sort of epic confrontation in case things got out of control or in case Astra fainted suddenly (A side effect of the prototype) or in case she suddenly began experiencing liminality of some sort. "Alright then...who are you?"

Astra seemed to freeze immediately and her eyes glazed over. She spoke in a manner similar to an animated construct, but not so controlled and scripted as to sound inhuman. "I am Astra Snaketongue, daughter of Arturo Vale."

Vale smiled, a sweet smile that held an entire level of ominousness, masked by his false, honey-like flashing of the teeth, and sparkling eyes that feigned joy. "Good.." He murmured before continuing. "Where are you?"

"In Father's private residence, which doubles as his lab for his experiments."

"Good girl," Vale exclaimed, patting Astra's head. She remained still, blank and in a vegetative state. "What is your purpose?"

"To do Father's dirty work...stealing for him like I did yesterday, and-" She paused, clearly confused. "And-"

"And?" Vale inquired, wishing for her to go on.

"And-and-Talon." Astra concluded finally.

"Who?" Vale asked, confused, but indignation building within him.

"Talon." Astra whispered coming to her senses. She turned away from Vale, beginning a brisk stride away from him. "I have to find Talon. I have to-"

Suddenly, the doctor grabbed her from behind, a bicep pressing against her throat. She snarled rudely, and writhed against his grip, but ceased once he whacked a nearby metal tray against her skull. A dull crack resonated throughout the halls, and Vale dropped Astra to the ground with a sigh.

"Unfortunately, your 'Talon' doesn't exist. He is a memory long forgotten, and you needn't remember him. While you're out, I think I'll just...improve you. Make you better. Don't fret now, girl. It'll all be okay."

He reached down and grabbed Astra's arms, walking backwards, dragging her down the hallway. He reached a door and pushed it open, lifting the limp body of Astra onto an examiner's table. He strapped her down, and yelled for Fallon. As Arturo Vale waited for his trusted assistant Fallon to arrive, he snatched a syringe labeled "DO NOT USE" and stabbed it into Astra's arm, pushing the fluid inside all the way into her veins. Fallon burst into the room, panting.

"Sir?" The greasy man asked, and Vale turned towards him, a fire burning stronger than the ones that burned in Earthborn hell in his eyes. Fallon raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Vale nodded. "Mark her wrist. P00617. That should do. Cut off her feet and replace them with cybernetics. Oh, and the dragon-after we're done with her, give her the dragon. She'll need it, considering what I have in mind."

Fallon nodded, opened a small drawer and produced a collapsible saw, unfolding it carefully. He stared at Vale, waiting for his superior to give the ready signal.

"Let's begin." Vale hissed in an almost snake like voice, as he turned towards Astra and licked his lips, something he always did to quell his excitement.

* * *

><p>She would obey.<p>

"Blast!" Vale yelled as the eyepiece broke right as he was attempting to slide it into her now blue eye. The pieces of silver seemed to fly outwards in all directions and Vale hastily raised an arm to shield his face. He heard a soft, sort of squishing noise and Astra screamed, clutching at her left eye, which was now bleeding profusely.

Vale removed his arms from his face and snatched a sedative from the nearest table, grabbing her arm and attempting to inject her with the chemicals. The moment his paws brushed Astra's arm, her scream rose in intensity, and she threw her arm outwards, throwing Vale into his own supplies and sending him crumpling to the floor. He had forgotten to keep her strapped down.

Vale grinned. Although his head was spinning and his brain shook violently, he knew he had accomplished enough. For the time being, at least.

It worked. The improved...prototype...that metal he had put inside her...it worked.

She now had the strength of ten men.

And looked it, too. The cybernetics coupled with the massive feast he'd held for her every day for the past month has thickened her and she was now more...full, looking a sharp sixteen, despite being only fourteen.

Astra's eye continued to bleed, and she placed her hands to cover it immediately, her breath gradually becoming a pant. She swiveled her head to stare at Vale and then turned to stare at Fallon. Her eyes returned to their normal, blank stare, and she seemed to sigh. She reached towards Vale. Fallon hurried out of the room.

"Help," Astra croaked. The look on her face however was not of fear. Her face was devoid of all emotion, and she looked older than she was. It was almost terrifying. Vale thought he noticed a spark of defiance in her eyes, but he pushed it aside. She would obey.

Vale scrambled to his feet, snatching a towel from the nearby sink, and wiping the blood away hastily. He removed her hand from her face, glancing at her eye...which looked fine. Instead of a dark, almost monochromatic blue, it was now a vibrant blue, pieces of silver swirling in an abstract pattern around the pupil.

"My dear...you're...how miraculous!" Vale exclaimed suddenly. "This is beautiful! A work of art! My first two successful prototypes decide to work..! Now, rise, girl. Rise and think of clothes. What do you want to wear?"

Astra touched at her eye dazedly before murmuring, "I want a dress. I want to be beautiful. Isn't that what you want...father..?" Her eyes deemed to narrow as she called the scientist her father, and she turned away, almost feeling disgusted.

Father.

The second memory wipe worked.

Arturo Vale grinned. "Yes, my dear girl. This is what I want." His grin faded and his eyes became quizzical. "Who is Talon?"

Vale had failed to estimate the side effects of the memory erasing/memory replacing device and the now sharp-tongued Astra gave him an eardrum-exploding reply. Moments before she seemed dazed. But what...what was this sudden attitude?

"What do you care?"

Vale froze, a small, dangerous chuckle manifesting in his throat. "Excuse me?"

"I asked why you cared...father. I doubt he exists, and even if he does, he doesn't affect the way I work." Astra paused, waiting for a response which she never received. "But even if he did affect me in the slightest, I would get rid of him. It's only right, after all."

Vale snarled angrily, opening his mouth to speak, but failed to do so as Fallon burst into the room. "Doctor," he panted. "There's rumor of a Conjuror in the area. Powerful, too. Should we send the girl?"

"I'm _right here_, you realise," Astra exclaimed in a snarky tone, but glanced down when Vale started at her.

"Astra, my dear, would you be so kind as to greet our little wizard?" He paused and then, "After all, we only do these things to prove that science triumphs over magic. That is why father has you do all these things. I think you can win. I know you can win." He gave a sinister smile, which immediately fell as Astra spoke.

Astra scoffed. "Dead flowers don't grow on trees," she answered simply and followed Fallon out of the lab.

* * *

><p>Cyrus paused before the door of the aged Snaketongue residence. He hadn't seen Robert since the other man had gotten married, and nostalgia threatened to overwhelm him. But the Conjuror remained calm, breathing in deeply and preparing himself both emotionally and mentally.<p>

He raised his hand, rapping on the maple wood surface of the door lightly.

No answer.

Cyrus knocked more firmly this time, furrowing a brow.

No answer.

Then there was a loud creak on the front porch by the decorations which had presumably not been taking down anytime recently, considering the fair amount of dust they had gathered. Cyrus frowned in confusion. What was going on?

Instinctively, he put up a shield and with a wave of his hand, the front door shattered as it was hit by a soft golden light. Cyrus kept his shield up, moving slowly through the house.

He heard the sound of metal scraping on wood, and whirled right towards the source. He saw the glimpse of a bright blue eye and could've sworn he saw a metal boot even, but the man hardly had any time to react as the floor in front of him exploded and he was pushed backwards a good ten feet.

A dust cloud had risen, obscuring Cyrus' view, and the splintered willow stuck up from the floor, the wood placed perfectly like a chick had forcefully broken from its shell.

His shield had absorbed most of the impact, but thankfully had just cracked. What force...what was he up against? Who was his new adversary?

A feminine hand sliced through the dust, and Cyrus was once again greeted with a flash of blue before the attacker threw their fist into his shield, shattering the invisible bubble. Cyrus Drake's opponent had struck with insane accuracy, having placed the knuckle on her middle finger directly in the center of the spider web crack. Cyrus took the chance and fixed his eyes on the girl.

Red ombré hair, one blue eye, one hazel, a stare that displayed almost no emotion yet gave the slightest hint of annoyance.

Astra Snaketongue.

What? How? Whe-

Cyrus didn't even have time to think as Astra darted towards him for another strike. He cursed mentally and quickly cast his spell, the Name slipping off of his tongue. A glowing, golden sword materialized before him and pressed itself against his chest, the glow brightening before seemingly disappearing into his body. The Mythblade was ready. Now to shake things up so he could at least have time to process this.

As Astra readied herself for a combo attack, Cyrus rushed forwards, pushing her off balance, and drew his miniature war hammer from his belt. With his empty hand, he waved his hand, and upon a name appearing in the air, struck it with his hammer. A gong-like sound reverberated throughout the house and the name shattered, from it burst a one-eyed giant, thought to only exist in the dreams of children and in stories of myth. The armored skirt the cyclops wore was nothing in comparison to its skin which even looked as if it were harder than enchanted steel. The war hammer in its hands looked destructive even, and nothing had happened as of yet. The creature's single eye swept around the room before it settled on Astra, who had halted her advance upon the cyclops' arrival.

Astra looked unimpressed. "You wizards and your tricks," she hissed.

The cyclops gave a snort in response and raised the weapon it held. It took a glance at Cyrus, who gave a begrudging nod. The cyclops swung the hammer in an arc that took the entire roof of the house with it, directing all of its strength towards Astra. The hammer and the roof hit the floor of the house and it exploded, demolished; devastated by the extreme force exerted by such a basic creature.

The silence that followed was painful. It pained Cyrus, too. He had just killed his greatest friend's daughter-in his own house nonetheless-and expected to be forgiven? But what had Astra become? Her eyes weren't always blue. Well, at least, one wasn't. She didn't always have pieces of obsidian metal swirling around her. Her feet weren't always robotic.

Silence. Why was it so quiet?

Was the girl still alive?

Without warning, Cyrus' summon gave a roar of anguish and exploded into small dust particles. Astra burst through the cyclops, whirling mid air to deliver a kick to Cyrus' side. He managed to block it with his forearm, but barely. She pushed off his arm and flipped again, her other heel sailing towards his face. Cyrus bent backwards, narrowly dodging her attack.

He thrust his hand forwards and a blast of golden energy flew from his palm, striking Astra in the chest. Unfortunately, she did not falter. How was she able to absorb a Heroic Hit? Was she some sort of machine?

"Astra!" He yelled, teeth gritted as he swerved around her flying feet and sailing fists, parrying the occasional attack with his mini-war hammer. "What's happened to you?" He inquired amidst the chaos. "You were always defiant and a bit of a rebel, sure, but never this! What happened to your father, Robert? Your mother..." Cyrus trailed off, waiting, hoping for a response. Nothing. "...What happened to Marlene?" He yelled, and Astra ceased her attacks almost immediately, eyes widening.

She retreated a few steps, opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, her head erupted and she let out an agonizing scream.

The memories were returning.

* * *

><p><strong>MW: So! Time to answer questions.<strong>

**Q: Why is Cyrus so easily beaten?**

**A: First of all, Cyrus is _NOT _easily beaten. He is an incredibly powerful Conjuror, and that's saying something in the DASR universe, considering the fact that I make all the spells seem so awesome-ahem. Anyways, Cyrus is only overwhelmed because of Astra's augments. She is faster, stronger and can resist magic to an extent. Remember, she is the first human Vale has experimented on, and she is being used by Vale to justify his statement that science trumps magic. Obviously, he would give her some form of magic resist.**

**Q: Who is Arturo Vale?**

**A: Good question. Remember that dog guy in Ravenwood who says he's a Balance professor but doesn't even know half the Balance spells? Hah! Phony, am I right? Anyways, I think I mentioned that Vale was his estranged brother. I may not have, but that's what I intended. I didn't really care for that dog-man's last name, so I made it Vale. And since his first name was Arthur, I altered it and created Arturo Vale. The whole thing with the two is that Arthur, the Balance professor is infatuated with magic and left his family to pursue a career in magic. But it angered Arturo because when they were younger they both had an interest in science and vowed to become the greatest scientists in the Spiral, and due to his brother's departure from Marleybone, Arturo slowly drove himself mad. His infatuation with science became an obsession, which began to twist his morals and his mind. Haven't really finished it yet because Vale is kinda unimportant.**

**Q: Why is Astra a bitch after Vale improves on her?**

**A: She's been in a coma for a while, ever since he knocked her in the head with that tray (That didn't put her in a coma, of course). Of course, she doesn't remember that she's been in a coma, but her bitchy attitude is how she's always been. I mean, I didn't really show it because the only pieces we've seen of Astra until now have been her as a crazy cyborg who tries to kill Talon, or a loving girl (She only expresses her affection for Talon because she's most comfortable around him). In fact, that's not true. Astra is tough, independent, sarcastic, rude and disrespectful. The only few people she does respect are Talon, Hunter, Ambrose, Cyrus and the few other friends she's made. **

**To put it simply, Vale did put false memories inside of her, but instead of expecting a few side effects like her retaining her original personality, he thought it would make her into a mindless slave. The memory eraser/changer did alter her memories and remove her original ones, but Astra still remains how she's always been, because she was never able to forget that. She sounds disgusted or annoyed because she feels as if something is wrong when she calls Vale "father", but she cannot pinpoint the source of the odd feeling or articulate/elaborate/explain it. **

**Q: Is Thalomir a villain?**

**A: No. Thalomir is not a villain or a hero. In fact, he is just a misguided creation. He does mention this to Talon, but we haven't seen or heard of that yet. Thalomir can seem villainous because he isn't against killing, but he is not. He believes that people shouldn't be controlled or used as tools and that they have the right to control their own destiny (His reasoning behind willing Talon to kill Lucas, and merging with Talon). **

**Q: Why can't Hunter hear Thalomir's voice in his head?**

**A: The Inheritance (The merging) can only be done with one person, and Thalomir's soul passes onto the firstborn, who-in this case-is Talon. Hunter doesn't really understand or realize that Thalomir is a part of Talon or his ancestor until near the end of the story.**

**Q: When will the other characters be revealed? You call them important, but it only seems like you've focused on Talon, Astra, Hunter, and Valkyrie.**

**A: The other characters will come when it is time. Haha. Just kidding. Every submission I've received is a main character. The characters don't seem important right now and they may not then because I put so much detail into one person's backstory and I've fleshed out current characters, but they are important. The only two characters who will not be as fleshed out are James and Vincent, partially because James is a stoic amnesiac and Vincent doesn't really talk. **

**Q: Who is Eron?**

**A: Eron is actually the main character in the spinoff of DASR, To Survive in the Wild, and is a minor character in DASR. He was in BuBu Winter's _Unbreakable _one-shot.**


	7. Side Chapter: The Impossible Truth

**MW: YO!**

**FINALLY**

**AFTER DAYS**

**WEEKS**

**MONTHS**

**IT'S HERE**

**IT'S JUST HEERAAREERENAJSNNEDJJESANFKJCKAMNAM**

**This took me a long time to write despite how short it is. I apologize for the length, but I repeatedly lost motivation, thought and ideas. Buuuuuuut they came back and I managed to finish the chapter. It may seem rushed, but it's just bits and pieces of each character's backstory to prepare you for random exposition points. Pay attention, please; you'll miss some things if you don't. Anyways! Next chapter may very well be my longest since it's after the timeskip and I am trying to put in as much exposition without ruining the plot and the ambiguous points. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>7 - Side Chapter: The Impossible Truth and the Man of Justice<strong>

Valkyrie shot up from her bed, eyes wide, hair frazzled. She looked around frantically before sighing in relief. She stared at the sheets wrapped tightly around her and her mind began to wander. Valkyrie wondered.

She wondered if Talon was okay.

Valkyrie was staying in a dorm now, away from her younger brother and away from Talon, with a roommate whose neck deserved to be snapped. Ravenwood wasn't bad by any means, no. The dorms weren't co-ed (Thank Wu) and the people were friendly enough. Lydia Greyrose, the professor who taught Valkyrie and the other novice Thaumaturgy students ice magic was a gentle, well-spoken woman. Didn't mean she couldn't be firm when needed. Valkyrie liked where she was now. But she couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

The Thaumaturge shook her head to rid herself of her thoughts, glancing at the door that led to her roommate's separate room. There were many things she could do. She could run away from Ravenwood and go back to Briskbreeze, just to see Talon again. She could run back home. But what would her brother think?

Her brother looked up to her. Adored her, even. He had no friends and was always being bullied. Not like he wanted to look like a girl. He just...did. Valkyrie Shadowspear was her brother's saviour. Always stuck up for him when he needed it. But this was for the best. He needed to grow up. Fight on without her.

The novice Thaumaturge glanced down at the sheets she gripped so tightly and almost looked on as the tears hit the back of her hands and decorated the linen with awkward dots of moisture. Aw, hell. She was crying.

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Valkyrie tugged the sheets up to her chin, eventually settling into a prone position and closing her eyes, turning her head for maximum comfort.

Would she really be able to do this?

* * *

><p>Wolf.<p>

Sabrina wished that was her name.

Wolf.

The name Wolf just sounded beautiful. It was attractive and slid off her tongue, softer than silk. Her infatuation with wolves wasn't a big secret, and a young, brown-haired, crimson eyed boy she'd met during school would often tease her about it, though she knew he was never serious because he would always apologise and give her a hug warmer than the sun itself.

Sabrina wasn't really interested in boys (or girls, for that matter), but Hunter made her heart melt. Not because she was in love with him or anything, but...she just felt something for him that transcended the bonds of friendship. Or at least, she figured it did.

Hunter was a kind person at heart, despite his arrogant, self-absorbed and generally rude demeanour. He often talked of his brother, and wondered aloud of his elder sibling's fate. Hunter's initial approach led Sabrina to believe he was interested in men, considering the fact that he appeared depressed, angry and afraid simultaneously and had rushed up to her, gripped the collar of her robe and interrogated her on the whereabouts of a young man named Talon, somehow knowing the colour of Talon's lips, how long his hair was and a number of other personal facts. But gradually they became friends, despite the tension between them at first.

Sabrina smiled slightly, moving her hands to place them behind her head in a leisurely manner when her hand bumped against a stack of papers on the oaken desk she sat before. Many of the papers slid off of the obviously unmanaged stack and hit the floor, a few papers rising up again before floating back to the marble tile of the dorm floor. A small lamp shed light on the papers in a spotlight-esque manner, and Sabrina sighed.

Homework.

It wasn't really something she was good at, nor something she cared about. Sabrina never did her homework because she didn't want to. It wasn't about being impaired or unable to complete it. She just didn't enjoy the prospect of work. And as such, her grades in her classes were dropping-not even that-and she was failing. Professor Halston Balestrom had berated her one too many times for cheating and even though Hunter had tried to take the blame, Balestrom would have none of it.

Damned fat frog.

The professor had made her feel miserable, humiliated her before the class. I mean, he didn't say her name when he decided to show her work as an example of what failure was, and he wasn't rude about it, but she was the only student whose work was horrendous.

It wasn't that she was angry-well, she was-but remembering how difficult it was to get into Ravenwood, and the mere fact that she was able to stay in school and learn magic despite her grades, which seemed to drop lower into the frigid depths of a nonexistent abyss; even when her grades were at their zenith, it was the recorded equivalent of the sun slipping beyond the horizon into oblivion eternal, forever gone and its return unspecified, if at all imagined.

Sabrina was dragged mirthlessly from her thoughts by a rapid tap on the door. She opened it lazily, sighing and beginning to speak, but paused upon seeing the person before her. "Hunter?" She asked, confused.

"What?" Hunter responded with a question, her confusion confusing him. "You wanted help with your homework, so here I am."

"Homework? Help? Are you seri-I never asked for help with my homework." Sabrina exclaimed in an exasperated tone. "How'd you even get in the girl's dorm?"

Hunter shrugged. "Whether you wanted help or not, I'm here now and I'm offering. Oh, also, 'no' isn't a valid answer. I'm obviously the smarter one here, so I'm obligated to assist those with lesser intelligence, right?" He asked, moreso to assure himself of his superiority rather than make Sabrina feel even more miserable. "I climbed through one of the windows. Charmed the pants off every girl that saw me; though only two bothered to look." Hunter concluded with a grin that made Sabrina's eyebrows drop into a "v" formation. She gritted her teeth and let out a low growl, which her friend was too absorbed in his own charm to hear.

Hunter could talk endlessly about himself and his brother, and there were times it became annoying-so much so that Sabrina had to punch him to get him to stop. Those times included when he talked about other girls-which always led to his charm and how he had changed his name because the women loved it-and when he talked about Talon, Talon's admirable spirit, Talon's emotional breakdowns-hell, at one point, Sabrina assumed he was homosexual. But he assured her he wasn't and kissed her oh-so-casually to prove it. Although it didn't really prove much of anything, save for the fact that she felt something for him that slipped beyond the limitations of friendship, but as always, he never noticed.

Sabrina wanted to yell at him; scream at a thirteen year old boy because she wanted to feel special. She wanted to be talked about like Talon and all those other girls. She wanted to be fawned over the way Hunter drooled at the prospect of power, the way his eyes would sparkle in a fierce way, like when a lion found its prey. Sabrina wanted to be noticed. But-

"Sabrinaaaaa..." Hunter sang, waving a hand in front of her face. She lept backwards slightly before adopting an angry visage and glaring at the young man. "What do you say we get that homework done..?" He inquired, laughing nervously.

"Stupid..." Sabrina muttered and handed him the stack of papers. "You work. I need to sleep." Without waiting for a response, she tugged off her boots, tossing them into a corner, giving Hunter a sidelong glance. "You gonna look away until I get into bed?" She asked, her face flushing slightly. Sabrina tried to maintain a straight face, but she was having trouble, considering the fact that she was changing right in front of Hunter, who had seemingly vowed to not look away.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to?"

Sabrina stared at him in awe. Was he stupid?

"This isn't the first time I've seen a girl change, Sabrina." Hunter exclaimed, turning away. He snorted. "Women, man. Every damn time..." The sound of a ink splashing in the container told Sabrina he was working.

She slipped out of her clothes and climbed into bed when Hunter turned around to address her again. Always oblivious, always interrupting her, always about him. Although she found it to be his worst trait, Hunter's narcissistic approach was interesting. Behind his megalomaniac demeanor, it always felt as if the diviner wasn't born that way. It felt as if he were pretending. Maybe he acted all self-absorbed and powerful because he needed to compensate for a loss. There was a chance he wanted to cry all the time but didn't want people to see. Maybe...maybe he was just misunderstood.

"You know," Sabrina began, rolling over to face Hunter. "It isn't a bad thing to let people know how you feel. It doesn't hurt to cry. You don't have to act all tough. Just let it out." Her vibrant green eyes found his, and she smiled slightly.

Hunter glanced at her, eyes running along her face. "Who says I don't? Who says this isn't really how I feel?" He asked, finding interest in the nails embedded into the floorboards.

"I know it's not, Hunter. You always seem so stupid, rude, selfish, and so narcissistic, but it's as if there's more to you. You're more complex than just that. You have to be." Sabrina responded knowingly. She stared at Hunter, watching his face for any reaction.

Hunter Lioncloud burst into laughter. He nearly fell over in the chair he was sitting in. Clutching at his stomach, he rolled on the floor in a bout of hysteria, coming to a resting place on the side of the bed. "That's cute, Sabrina. Real cute."

Sabrina blushed, embarrassed, but then remembered what she was asking. "But...am I right?" She inquired, eager to learn the truth.

Hunter shrugged. "Will you kiss me?" He asked in a mocking voice.

"Ew! No!" Sabrina replied instinctively.

"But do you want to?" Hunter continued.

Sabrina fell silent.

"That's the thing, Sabrina. It may be amazing to learn the truth. It may be devastating. But it isn't our job to learn the truth. Just because you want to know something doesn't mean you should know. Knowing or not knowing shapes your future. You leave things as they are-enigmas-and you carry on with your life. But when you reach out for those enigmas-when you chase after them relentlessly-what life you once had has vanished because while you could've carried on with life as is-in control-you lept forward blindly and relinquished your control of life in a search for truth...a truth that remains impossible. Forever an enigma." He paused. "Do you really want to take that chance? Lose control just to find a truth which you know doesn't exist?" He paused, basking in the elongated silence. "That sounded intelligent, especially for me," he murmured.

Sabrina smiled softly, a smile full of acceptance. She realised what she was about to do. Lose control. Not like she had any to begin with. But the young diviner was curious. Curious as to what it would feel like to let go of the reins. Curious about Hunter. Eager to learn the truth.

"Yes." She whispered.

* * *

><p>Leif always figured he was special. He was elated when he became a Theurgist, wanting to rub it in the faces of all those who had wronged him-maybe turn them to stone with his newfound powers-but he didn't realize that becoming a Theurgist only added to his problems.<p>

The fact that wizards who specialized in healing, growing trees, planting seeds to grow said trees and summoning unicorns weren't thought very highly of was one thing, especially the stereotype that Theurgists were weak and infinitely optimistic.

Leif wasn't optimistic. He was the opposite of that, maybe. Well, however pessimistic an eleven year old could get. But his negative outlook on life was justified. Leif was bullied by his peers and even his juniors, and was trying to cope with the fact that his sister had left for Ravenwood. Although Leif had become a Theurgist, he had only passed the test, and it would be a good year or two before he would be eligible to enter Ravenwood and begin his studies.

In the past few moments, Leif had recapped his entire life until now, and he realized how much he despised it. His sister always had to protect him. She always stepped in for him when the other children ridiculed his girlish appearance. She always had to protect him, always babying him, always-

No. No more. He couldn't let her take all the hits for him. He wasn't a feeble, weak girl like they all thought. He was a man. Leif was mighty.

It was time to stand up for himself. To not fold under pressure. It was time to change. Yet, despite his resolution which he had formulated in a matter of minutes, the small voice in the back of his head hissed. Told him he couldn't do it. Said that this feeble, weak part of him was him. And it would be part of him forever.

Leif wanted to change. He knew he could change. But he was afraid. He knew he was afraid-hell, he even knew why he was afraid. It just felt good for once to be a man when no one was watching. It reassured him that he could make it without his sister. But he knew he couldn't. He knew he would never be able to, at least for a time.

Being able to know the truth wasn't always an advantage.

* * *

><p>The Immortal Games. An almost impossibly large event, one that allowed wizards to go toe-to-toe with powerful entities-gods themselves. No holds barred. There were rules, but to Maximillion Goldstar, there were none. The Immortal Games were his chance-the chance-to prove himself. The chance to be recognised as a hero, and his chance to use his newfound (Hopefully) powers to show the Spiral the true meaning of justice.<p>

Maximillion was always this way. Not that he wasn't raised as such (Having been raised by knights in the beautiful world of Avalon), but his ideals had never changed since he could remember. At eighteen years of age, the young Conjuror suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder which was so severe that it managed to shape his ideals into that of a zealot-esque being who saw the world in black and white and believed that only light could prevail in the face of darkness. But even despite this...problem, Maximillion remained a humble, knowledgeable gentleman.

Just days prior, he had asked a local wizard what it meant to be a hero. The wizard spoke, defining his idea of a hero. The elderly man told tales of his time as a traveler, and whispered about the time he crossed paths with the legendary Necromancer, Rouge Brulant Ciel Bloodbane. He was known across the Spiral as "Vehement Execution" due to his godlike mastery of necromancy and his seemingly equal control over flame. The wizard had encountered Rouge as the powerful Necromancer lay on the ground, a sword embedded in his leg, arrows scattered across his back, and a nasty gash across his left eye. The younger wizard was crawling to shelter, glancing up at the older man before continuing on his way. The elder wizard concluded his story at that, but Maximillion didn't understand. The older man shrugged and handed the young Conjuror a card that was strangely blank. The absolute nothingness on the card begged Maximillion's attention but failed to attract it. Instead, the boy stared at the Avalonian wizard in confusion, expecting a reply. After a prolonged silence, the wizard finally explained that the card would reveal itself when it was reunited with its "twins", or pair cards. Prior to the reveal, it would lead him on a journey to prove his worth.

The answers the wizard had given him were relatively vague, but Maximillion was a man of justice. He was a hero, and he would respect his elders and their words, no matter how laughable the explanation seemed. But so far, the card had been taking him somewhere. Maybe he was being told the truth? Maybe he was wrong for distrusting the man's words. Maybe...maybe he wasn't strong enough? Maybe that card was fake, or would lead him to an obscure world with no means of returning home.

...No.

Maybe wasn't enough. Don't start making false or hasty judgements this soon. He was a hero, and heroes were pure. They did things right. They respected their elders. Did as they were told. Served and led diligently and dutifully.

Maximillion was a hero.

Heroes always prevailed.

* * *

><p>Talon blinked once; twice. He sat up in his cell, glancing around, his eyes still adjusting to the dark. Dreary-eyed, he moved closer to the bars. He pressed his head against the cool metal, sighing and closing his eyes once more, a slow blink as he tried to process the contents of his dream.<p>

Truth.

That was the only word he remembered hearing in his dream, but the person who said it...well, she didn't remember him.

Astra had spoken the word. She had sat behind Talon and cut his hair with a dagger, caressing his face and whispering softly in his ear. He couldn't quite understand what she was saying, but then Astra began to cry. Her tears hit his face and splashed against his cheeks. Soon, Talon was drowning in her tears. It was so sudden, he didn't know how to react. He flailed wildly, yearning for air; then the yearning was gone as soon as it had come and Talon was gasping as the water level began to drop rapidly. Then Astra was run through with a spear and although Talon screamed, roared, cried and tried to save her, he could do nothing. "Truth!" Astra had yelled as the breath left her body. "Tell...me the truth..!" The word burned in Talon's mind, a searing pain that threatened to set his hair alight.

He shook his head. "What the hell is that supposed to mean..?" He mumbled to himself. "What is the truth? That I once loved a little girl named Astra who felt the same until she was taken from me and I never saw her again? How is that gonna sound?" Sighing, Talon moved backwards, away from the bars of the cell, pressing his back against the wall. He closed his eyes for a good ten seconds, opened them, and yelped.

"Shut up!" A gruff voice barked.

Talon stared, wide-eyed, at the Draconian woman before him. The woman appeared to be more of a man than a woman, due mainly to her broad shoulders and stocky build. Despite her masculine physique, she had a full chest and feminine curves. Her hair was a burnt orange, and stretched just below her lower back. The Draconian was a good seven inches taller than Talon, which wasn't an impressive feat, considering the fact that Talon was only 5'1". The boy was speechless.

The woman stared at Talon for a time, and then kicked at the bars of the cell with a ferocity that both broke four of the bars in half and caused Talon to nearly urinate on the floor. "Up," she hissed, waving a hand-or claw-at him.

He scrambled to his feet, pressing himself into a corner with the unusual hope that she hadn't seen him. She scoffed. "Who-?" Talon began. His voice cracked. He was afraid. Helpless.

"I'm Shina." She stated simply, waiting for the inevitable response. The smirk was already on her face.

"Shiner?" Talon asked, confused. "What kind of name is that?"

Shina laughed heartily for the first time in years. The boy was just like his father. "Just like your father, boy...neither of you can pronounce things." She cleared her throat, which sounded akin to a guttural roar. "Shy-nah. I'm here to train you. Your father sent me."

Talon's eyes widened further, if that was even possible. His terrified demeanor vanished, replaced by confusion and skepticism. "My father? But...he's dead!"

Shina just shrugged simply. "You have no say in the matter, child. While I am here, you have no say in anything. I will show you how to fight and make you strong."

"Why?" Talon inquired.

"Because war is upon us, and you need to be ready."

Talon remained silent, unable to shake the feeling that he had heard these words somewhere before. Somehow, he felt as if he knew what lay ahead, but the imagination left future events and possibilities shrouded in mystery.

Where did this road lead?

* * *

><p><strong>MW: Time for review replies~<strong>

**Ammaarah01: Yeah, I hate Fallon, too. Had some trouble writing about him. The next chapter is all about some of the "background" main characters, so be ready!**

**James Firecrafter: Thanks, man! I've stopped playing for the time being and canceled my membership for now, but I will return for the sake of experiencing childhood nostalgia.  
>God, I love nostalgia.<strong>

**Q&A:**

**Q: Who _IS _Shina?**

**A: Shina is a friend of Valdus, Talon's father. You won't learn much about her in the story, so I may as well tell you now. She is a direct descendant of Jilak, a powerful storm-oriented Draconian who wasn't quite favored by the Dragon Titans but was a friend of Thalomir's. He assisted in sacking his castle. After Thalomir's death and Valkoor's (Thalomir's son) rise to power and position as king of men, Jilak and Frase (Another of Thalomir's friends; first female fighter ever) went on to train Draconians (After Valkoor died, man and the other races had a massive falling out and as a result, men governed themselves and shunned everyone else) to fight in the wars to come. Shina was a Draconian who fought in the wizard-Draconian war (Which Valdus took part in). Shina contributed to the war by defeating the Spirit of Thalomir in the tallest of towers, slaughtering multiple wizards and ultimately assisting Valdus in creating peace once more between the two races (Until Malistaire restored some ancient tensions). Shina and Valdus were in a slightly romantic relationship years before Valdus was married, and she served as his best friend and confidant when he was married. She is Talon's godmother.**

**Q: Why is Maximillion so bent on being a hero and abiding by the law?**

**A: 'Cause he's Max. He was raised by a powerful family of wizards who were very righteous people. As such, Maximillion's views are very black and white, resulting in him initially disliking Talon.**

**Q: Can Talon see the future?**

**A: His merging with Thalomir gives him visions of the near future, yes. **

**Q: Where did Talon's axe go?**

**A: I realize that I never fully touched on the subject of that axe (and I never really will), but for the time being, it was confiscated, as are most weapons before a person's imprisoned.**

**Q: What is the importance of Talon's axe?**

**A: Family heirloom, passed down through generations. Was Thalomir's, then his son Valkoor's, and so forth. The axe is said to hold the power of all those who came after Thalomir and died with it in hand, and is also said to be able to be summoned at will, though never shown because Talon doesn't know how to mark things and never learns. Also, since Talon and Thalomir are currently one, Talon appears attached to the axe more than usual because he shares feelings with Thalomir.**

**Q: What does it mean, "Thalomir and Talon are one"?**

**A: It means that their souls have essentially fused. Ever watched/read Dragonball Z? Like that, just without the dance. The catch is that the souls have to be compatible in order to fuse. As a result of the merging, the two beings are now one, and share mannerisms, strength, knowledge, and physical traits.**

**With Talon and Thalomir, fusing gave Talon knowledge of more ancient skills such as Absolute Death (the most raw form of Necromancy), Crux/Cross (a style which involves the use of weapons together with magic; while there are variants of Crux/Cross in Talon's generation, Crux/Cross is said to be the most fluid and can be adapted in any way. Magic can also be poured _into_ the weapon to allow for maximum power, etc.), and knowledge of the history of the Spiral. Even though Talon had knowledge, he had no way of using it, hence why Thalomir instructed him to be trained first.  
><strong>

**Talon is also shown to be calmer after fusing with Thalomir. While he is still afraid, he does a better job of masking his emotions mainly from his training with Shina and newfound knowledge of the battlefield and war. This is shown more so after the time skip (next chapter) rather than immediately. **


	8. The Consequences of Freedom

**MW: YO, WHAT'S UP, MY FELLOW REVIEWERS AND WHATNOT? AFTER I FINALLY GET SOME TIME AWAY FROM SCHOOL, I manage to put this up only to realize that I have two tests next week and I'm struggling to get back into my old school habits again. Anyways, here is Chapter 8, which features introductions into a few new characters and looks into old character's lives after the timeskip. Hope you enjoy, please review! Thanks.**

* * *

><p><strong>8 - The Consequences of Freedom<strong>

Briskbreeze was cold. The prison wasn't the worst-or at least, Talon assumed-but it was hell to the inmates. Talon had tried to ignore it for the first few months and managed to, building a slight tolerance to the cold, especially during his training with Dworgyn almost seven months after his arrival. Touching death made his blood run cold, his nerves turn to ice and his eyes glaze over like water beginning to freeze. But even then, Talon had to try hard to ignore the cold of Briskbreeze. After being trained intensively by the Draconian warrior Shina during the rest of his time at Briskbreeze, Talon was able to withstand the cold. For the most part, at least.

Dworgyn was only in prison for half as long, but noticed Talon's affinity for Necromancy and taught him all he knew, which included resisting the other magics, more specifically ice. It may have been to Dworgyn's dislike of the cold and ice magic in general, but Talon never asked.

Shina had taught Talon to never show his emotions, or at least, hide them behind a mask. He had to be calm in situations of dire consequence and could never allow his passion and rage to consume him. She taught him what she knew of combat and how to wield a two handed weapon in one hand almost effortlessly. How she was able to break into his cell and teach him about battle, Talon didn't know. Why she couldn't just break him out of the prison altogether, Talon didn't know. He assumed Shina didn't break him out to teach him a lesson of sorts, but didn't put much thought to it.

Ultimately, after six and a half years of a life sentence inside a prison that was colder than the Earthborn hell, he was being released.

Talon was first notified of this when a guard-different than his usual one-smacked his cell bars with his spear, rousing Talon from his sleep. The guard had opened the door and told Talon to follow close behind, cuffing the young man. Ever since Talon had begun building muscle and growing in power (and growing taller), he had been watched constantly as the sentries began to notice his changing physique. Today was different. He figured that the guard would guide him to the cafeteria where he ate as he was watched constantly by guards who held no regard for any of the inmate's' health and safety. Yet they passed the cafeteria, causing Talon to raise an eyebrow.

"Where are we going?" He asked, glancing at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"What's it to you?" The guard responded harshly.

"Fuck you too, man," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

The guard whirled on the young man, whose eyes flashed dangerously. The sentry fell silent and continued walking. Talon followed, simply because he had to. It wasn't like he couldn't return to his cell, but he wasn't sure if he was finally leaving this dump or if he was going to be interrogated again. But he was sure he was leaving.

The guard paused at a rusted iron door and prompted Talon to speak. "I don't recognise this," the boy said. "Where are we?" The door slid open in an agonisingly slow fashion, and the guard unlocked Talon's handcuffs, pushing him outside.

"You're free. Don't come back. And be sure to see the Headmaster-Ambrose-before you do anything else."

"Wait, what?" Talon asked, but the guard didn't answer as the door began to close ever so slowly. The door creaked hideously, the metal sounding akin to a bloodcurdling screech. Talon, frozen in a mixture of shock and confusion, stood stock still, blinking blankly until he managed to grasp his surroundings. The guard had spoken a few words and that was it? Talon was sure that wasn't how they released prisoners on Earthborn worlds. Didn't Wizard City operate like an Earthborn world? Well, not that it mattered much anymore.

He was free. Six years, and the past was behind him.

"I'm...free..?" He began slowly. "I'm free!" Talon's laughter rose in volume until he was sure the entire world could hear him. Wiping tears of joy from his eyes, he hissed to himself, a low promise that he was sure would motivate him. "I'm coming, Hunter."

* * *

><p>"War?" Astra asked, staring at Cyrus Drake quizzically. "Why would there be a war when all of the races are at peace? Malistaire-your brother-is a rising threat, but the worlds are managing to come together thanks to the efforts of Ambrose's group, correct? And all the worlds are connected. Aren't we in harmony?"<p>

Astra had learned quite a bit since she was liberated four years earlier. Cyrus Drake, a friend of her father's, had taken her under his wing and treated her like his own daughter. Astra was taught about the Spiral and its history, war between wizards, diplomacy, and anything else Cyrus could shove into her head in an effort to mold her into the feisty yet overly curious girl he once knew.

After dueling with her so long ago in Marleybone, Cyrus was forced to imprison her in the rent that she would become a menace to the already unstable and skeptical wizard community. It took two years for Cyrus to work out the adoption papers due to the girl's repeated attempts on Talon Bloodbane's life, but he managed to convince the world that she would be alright. When Cyrus reunited with Astra Snaketounge after freeing her from Briskbreeze, he noticed her old mannerisms and memory of her childhood had returned. Eventually, he deduced that she had been memory wiped several times and was a semi-cyborg (she still was able to reproduce and was mostly humanoid) and did his best to restore her memory.

The most he managed to return to her was her memory of him, a more vivid memory of her parents and a boy she kept calling "Talon" (who he assumed was someone other than Talon Bloodbane, seeing as she tried to kill her fellow inmate when in the cell with him).

But now...she's progressed faster than Cyrus anticipated, processing and learning things almost twice as fast as an average human. It was most probably due to her cyborg implants, but even so, Cyrus was amazed.

He nodded solemnly; slowly. "Yes, Astra. War. War is upon us, and despite the public appearing safe and confined-protected from evil-we aren't. The most we can do now is wait, but I have deigned to tell you what's been going on behind the scenes because we need to prepare." Cyrus paused, letting his words sink in.

"Who?" Astra inquired. She sat across from her father's friend, staring at him curiously.

"Hmm?" Cyrus murmured.

"Who does he want on the team?" She twirled her burgundy ombré locks around her fingers, glancing at Cyrus every now and then, awaiting new a response.

She was already steps ahead of Cyrus, despite him never mentioning the team or even implying that there would be a team. Amazing. "As of yet, I don't know. I would assume he'd send veterans like myself and the other teachers, but knowing Ambrose, he'd be willing to bet his hand on the younger generation." Cyrus was silent, musing over his words, and then, "He'll select team members by the end of the week. I want you to be ready. Remember what I taught you?"

Not only was Astra knowledgeable about the historical and political side of the Spiral, but while under Cyrus' wing and tutelage, she learned Conjuring. Summoning monsters right out of storybooks worked quite well with her ferocious and brutish fighting style. Astra preferred to use her fists and would often train with a cyclops of her own summoning to increase her strength. In the end, if she could conceptualise it, it was possible.

"Of course, Cyrus!" Astra exclaimed, smirking slightly. "How could I forget? One last spar, then?"

"Sorry, Astra, but I can't today. As long as you continue to practice and hone your skills, you'll be well prepared." Cyrus murmured lowly, shifting his weight about as if nervous.

She nodded. "Alright," Astra stared at Cyrus, her single blue eye watching him carefully. "Thank you." She concluded finally, standing and leaving the room. Astra leaned against the door, back pressed to the oak. She thought to herself for a moment, and turned left, exiting the Drake manor. She might as well squeeze in some practice at the arena. The girl rolled her shoulders, soft cracks resounding in her ears as she did herself of the stiffness in her joints. Astra grunted, cracking her neck, and flicked her ombré burgundy hair out of her face, blowing straggling strands from her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she began to imagine the arena in all its glory, a beautiful area, intricate, visually spectacular designs carved into the floors; designs that were so elegant that merely touching them with your shoes filled you with a feeling that could be identified as beyond holy. Inhaling deeply and concentrating solely on the arena, Astra poured her magic into the single spot she had visualised, imagined herself there-put herself in that one spot-

Opening her eyes, Astra glanced around, drinking in her surroundings.

Wizards of all ages, races and ranks crowded around scrolls that floated just out of the reach of eloquent marble pedestals. The walls were covered in grandiose and excruciatingly colourful paintings, which tilted and twisted ever so slightly, joining together as a single architectural piece-a ceiling-at the end.

The arena lobby was a majestic creature in its own right, and every time Astra came to practice she gasped softly and her eyes sparkled. The arena turned a monster like her into a glittering flower.

She scrawled her name on one of the last open slots, slipping into the line that stretched from the ranked matches signup to the outside of the arena. Although she was a nineteen year old girl, she felt at least ten whenever she arrived in the arena.

Stepping away from the scroll, she found a comfortable spot against one of the pedestals and waited for her match. A dark skinned, lean young man with surprisingly red eyes-for a second, she could've sworn she saw him phase out of existence, or even transform into another person-and hair darker than black scrawled his name on the scroll, presumably next to hers. He didn't look very strong. Astra wondered-if she were to fight him, of course-how strong he was. Never make assumptions.

Her name wasn't incredibly common-she knew that a few other people in wizard city had the same name-but the way the man looked at her made her feel as if she should remember something. Something about this man was unique. It attracted Astra. Before she could stride over to speak with him, however, he exploded into a puff of black smoke. His match-which meant Astra's, too-was starting.

The duo rematerialized in a new arena lobby, the floor decorated with ancient Azteca symbols. Astra had learned about the Aztecas during her history lessons under Cyrus. The symbols weaves together to create a relatively intimidating face, that of which glared at the contestants as they strode around the edges of the circle, preparing themselves for the fight. The black-haired boy whistled in a lax manner, giving Astra a sidelong glance. His crimson eyes found hers and he smiled. She could've sworn she saw his eyes water. She responded by giving him a quizzical look.

Astra blinked. She could've sworn that for a split second, the boy's hair and eye color changed yet again, but then returned to the jet black and crimson combination. Something was wrong.

"What's your name?" He inquired as the announcer began counting down the seconds before the match. The boy was obviously underestimating her. He was weaponless, to boot-a severe disadvantage against a fighter such as herself.

60.

59.

"I'm Astra," she responded after a small silence. "You are?"

58.

57.

56.

55.

54.

"Talon Wood," he answered simply.

Talon? Wasn't that the-

"Remember it, Astra." She heard him hiss. He grinned, his teeth flashing.

Astra was definitely hearing things now.

53.

52.

Why did his name sound familiar?

51.

Why? Astra was struck with a sudden crushing pressure; as if she was supposed to remember this boy's name. As if she was supposed to remember him. What was he?

She glanced up at the boy and his black hair flickered, as if it were ethereal. She was definitely seeing things, now. His entire body seemed to flicker, as if it were phasing in and out of existence. What the-

Who was he?

46.

45.

44.

43.

42.

Astra growled lowly her confusion turning into frustration. Her head began to ache painfully, as if it were protesting against fighting this particular opponent. Her hopes of intimidating him with the roar didn't work as well as she had hoped as he simply stared at her blankly, almost like he was anticipating her movements. Setting her eyes on the boy, she gave him a sharp glare that caused him to falter for a moment. His confidence did not waver, though.

His body flickered.

The announcer faltered for a moment, but continued with the countdown.

28.

27.

26.

25.

She had begun to calm down now that the boy had stopped playing games with her. She was sure of herself-sure and confident that this would be an easy win.

24.

23.

22.

21.

20.

19.

Talon Wood began whispering, probably preparing some sort of incantation. Astra felt as if she could see the words coming from his mouth, as if she knew what he would do next. A sharp pain lanced through her mind, but she fought through it, gritting her teeth and digging her feet into the ground, taking a stance with her fingers placed in a claw like fashion. If one were to look, they may say she reminded them of a bear.

15.

14.

13.

12.

11.

10.

The boy that stood in front of her smiled. He still flickered, occasionally replaced by a different person altogether. It made her uncomfortable, but she would remain strong for as long as she needed. "Do you really think you can win?" He asked. Astra paused, slightly, but ultimately ignored him. She nodded.

"Of course I can. I was trained by Cyrus Drake, the greatest Conjuror in wizard city. I know spells you've never seen, kid," She concluded.

5.

4.

"I'm-" He paused abruptly, and he faded away for a moment, replaced by a timid looking boy with bright blue hair and golden eyes, but when Astra dared to blink again, she saw the fearless, confident young man with black hair and crimson eyes. "-taller," he finished and spread his arms wide. He sounded like a child, and his behavior reminded her of someone.

But who? Astra stayed on the defense, cloaking her shield, prepared for him to unleash his most powerful spell first.

1.

Begin!

Talon Wood considered his options. He had prepared the incantation for the wraith, and was now simply wondering how the girl would respond. Sure, she was Astra, Cyrus Drake's adoptive daughter as most everyone in Wizard City knew, and sure, he was just a Magus Necromancer, but he'd prepared himself for fights like this. He had four incantations memorized, and he was sure that those would keep her on edge while he peppered her with smaller attacks.

She may have been a powerful Conjurer, but he could at least try.

Wood shook his head, dismissing any further mental conversations and decided to start the battle off with a simple undead creature, something that would keep Astra at bay while he figured out an opening.

Throwing his hands upwards, Wood gritted his teeth, focusing his mind on summoning the skeletal pirate. The spell tugged at his mind before finally releasing his skull from its deathly grasp. The pirate burst forth from the ground seamlessly, curved blade in hand, and ran in a zigzag fashion towards Astra, twirling its scimitar. Astra was struck with the blade, but without warning, her skin peeled off to reveal that she had been nothing more than a simple golem. The golem crumbled and the pirate turned to look at Wood.

Behind.

Talon Wood managed to twist his body to look behind him, which most likely saved him from the devastating punch Astra threw, one which involved catapulting her body forwards towards his and throwing out her fist all the while concentrating on keeping a delayed Conjuration spell contained in the hand she intended to strike with. The fist grazed against his abdomen, but the moment her knuckles brushed his side, the Conjuration spell exploded, throwing Astra sideways and knocking Wood off of his feet, throwing him to the ground.

The black-haired boy's body hit the ground with a sharp, booming thud and Astra rolled mid-fall, her boots skidding against the ground, kicking up broken arena fragments. The skeletal pirate remained animate however, and Astra cocked her head to the side in a moment of confusion as the undead creation bounded over to its controller, bones creaking, and helped him up. Weren't animated creations supposed to drop when their creator lost control? Either the Necromancer didn't lose control all too easily, or he was able to reanimate the dead to the extent where they had their own minds.

Wood rose to his feet, coughing and rubbing his stomach lightly. "Painful," He grunted simply. He gave his undead minion a pat on the head-or rather, the skull-and the skeletal pirate dissolved, the white dust that now represented the once relatively lively creature swirling to form a new creature, wreathed in black, armed with a scythe that appeared as if it yearned for blood and eyes hidden by an ominous fog.

A wraith.

The black haired boy began to laugh, slapping his cheeks with both hands. "This would be so much easier if I had the axe-don't you think so?" He asked, and Astra raised a brow. Who was the question directed to? Not to her it seemed. She would've opened her mouth to answer if he didn't nod to himself and say, "Yeah, it does look like it," And then proceeding to dart towards her, the wraith trailing behind him.

This fight didn't look so one-sided anymore.

* * *

><p>"I'm here, finally," Maximillion exclaimed, sighing in exasperation. Four years had passed since he'd first received the card. Four god-forsaken years and he was finally in Aquila. The card was still fairly blank, save for the large green arrow that had appeared on it the moment Maximillion took his first step after touching the thing. It seemed to tug on his arm, pulling him about as if he were a toy. He gritted his teeth. "This card has to be evil. I swear, if I get to wherever the other cards are and it turns out to be a dud or some sort of evil war elephant, I'm gonna…" He trailed off, inhaling sharply. The self-proclaimed hero rolled his neck, massaged his shoulders and allowed the card to drag him along the streets of Aquila.<p>

A large banner that read "Welcome to the IMMORTAL GAMES" flashed before Maximillion's eyes and his jaw fell.

Whoa.

The Immortal Games? The challenge for the greatest hero? The challenge that suited his-no, someone with his-capabilities? Maximillion had studied Conjuring, as the card had initially led him to the Library, giving him vast knowledge of all the known magics and what he would be able to do with each. Maximillion chose to specialize in Conjuration and after years, here he was. The Immortal Games. Maybe the card had deemed him a hero? Maybe the card recognized his strength?

By the Titans.

He was here. He was finally here.

If only he had some friends to tell about it. Max gave a small chuckle and shook his head in dismissal. A hero didn't need friends. Heroes rode solo-they did everything on their own. They were strong in both weapon and magic, and a hero's leadership skills were beyond godly. Maximillion once was told of a hero who could rule gods. Well, that was before he fell at the hands of his son and his closest friends. He was called Thalo-something, and he was said to be ruthless. Though, that didn't matter. Maximillion knew all too well (not really, he just liked to believe he did) that a hero had to shoulder the woes, the burdens, the stress and the pain of all who he loved and protected, no matter how he felt towards them.

Placing a fist to his chest, he glanced at the sky, a look of determination spreading across his face.

I will protect the-

"Are y'gonna go in 'r what?" A man slapped Maximillion on the shoulder, his short blonde hair streaked with violet, black, ocean blue and black gave the Conjurer a sharp glare. Max returned the gesture with a glare of his own. How rude. The man appeared about twenty, and was approximately three inches taller than Max himself, who was a small 5'1".

The hero scoffed. "Of course I'm going in," He answered simply. Suck it up, words shouldn't hurt.

The opening of the mountain loomed before them, shadows swirling ominously in what could've been described as the maw of an enormous rock monster.

A fairly loud growl drew the attention of both me, and they squinted, trying to peer further into the cave. A snort made the twenty year old jump back, but Max pressed forward. "The Immortal Games…" He muttered dazedly. The Conjurer continued to move closer to the cave, the younger man with the strange hair catching up to him.

"You ready, man?" Max turned his head towards the twenty year old upon hearing the question.

"What?"

"If we lose, we probably can't come back for a year or something. Are you ready?"

Max shrugged. "I'm a hero. I can't lose." He responded, trudging forwards. The man with multicolored hair took one last glance behind him before following Max into the cave.

Oh, boy.

The two minotaurs that slammed their hooves into the cracked rock floor split, each colossal creature gaining a duplicate.

"Whoa-two more?!" The newcomer next to Max asked incredulously. "Why are there two more?"

"Maybe someone else came to fight with us?" Max asked, his tone uneasy. He glanced around. "We could use all the help we can get, especially if we're going to do a double summon pincer attack."

"Double summon pincer-A what?!" Max's companion asked incredulously. "What's with the plans?"

"I'll help," a soft voice drew both men's eyes to a barely visible silhouette in a secluded corner of the room.

Max stated for a moment blankly before turning back to the Skyfather. "Alright, we're ready!" He set himself in a fighting stance, motioning for the other two members of his group to fan out and prepare themselves.

"Here's how this'll work," Max began, the plan already unfolding in his mind. "You-" he pointed to the man with the wild, insanely colorful hairstyle. "-you'll attack from that side. Be sure to spread out your attacks and get to higher ground as you do so. Once you get to higher ground, you throw your strongest attack you can and then run at them."

"Wait, what?" Was the immediate response Max received, but he ignored it.

"You-" Max continued, pointing to the silver haired, short legged, dark robed man on his left. "-you'll attack from that side, too, only you'll keep their attention and summon some minions if you can. I'll go for the Skyfather, but by that time, you'll have had to crush the minotaurs so you can help me. Got it? Good. Let's-" Max concluded, but the man who had stopped him once before stopped him again.

"Hold it, buddy! Look, I got a name-I'm Will-well, William, but Will works, alright? And this plan-this plan of yours makes no sense whatsoever. How're we supposed to kill minotaurs that fast? We don't know how strong they are!" William exclaimed, an attempt to point out the flaws in Max's plan.

Max looked at William silently before he then said, "We could've gone through with it if you didn't need to tell me that," he tried as one minotaur raised its fist above the duo's heads.

* * *

><p>Help.<p>

"You are not my son."

"But-Father-" Eron pleaded.

"Do not call me that!" The older Draconian snapped, his voice lowered to a hiss, venom slipping from his tongue.

Eron's eyes found the ground, and his shoulders slumped in sorrow. He hung his head in shame, unwilling to look at his father.

"You are a disgrace to this family. You have shamed us all-Your lack of magical ability, let alone potential is ridiculous and preposterous-had I not seen the truth myself, I would have had you lashed for lying to me. As a result, I will have your wings clipped and you will leave this place."

Eron didn't realize he was crying.

"Am I understood, Darrien?" Darrien Viridian XIV younger Draconian didn't respond. "Am I understood?"

Eron shook in his place, his head hung in shame. Darrien Viridian XIV reached towards his son, grabbing him, lifting his head, forcing him to look into his eyes-

The window shattered.

Eron was no longer in the stairwell of his home, but instead was tumbling out of the broken window, wings flailing, an attempt to catch a pocket of aid to right himself and flee. Wings clipped? Exile?

Everything Eron had ever done in his lifetime was to please his family. Everything was for his family. His father. Father this, father that. All he was rewarded with was a stern glance and a curt "run along, now," from his elder. He'd had enough. He had enough of being ordered around by a man who didn't even treat his son like he mattered. He'd had enough of hiding from himself, being sheltered, concealed from reality. He'd had enough of being bound.

Eron didn't want to pretend that he loved his father anymore.

"You will never return!" Darrien XIV roared, his screams blown away by the wind. "You are a disgrace, you bastard child! No one ever loved you! No one will come for you! You are lost!"

If throwing himself headlong into abandonment was a way of escaping a lifetime of shame, then so be it.

The green skinned Draconian woke with a gasp. He tilted his head to the side, yellow eyes wide and his expression frantic. His eyes flitted about in their sockets, looking for an intruder that wasn't there. He ran a clawed hand along his snout. "Goddamn," he said simply, shaking his head in dismissal.

He'd been having the same dream for-what was it-months since Ambrose had notified him of the increasing threat that manifested itself as Malistaire Drake, the once popular Necromancer who had been driven to the edge after his wife was killed. Ambrose wanted him to join a team he had already created, with a Diviner who seemed distant-as if he were lost in another world rather than rooted in the current one, an amnesiac Thaumaturge who refused to talk, a young Pyromancer who barely looked above the age of fourteen, and a girl who seemed more mature than she looked. The last girl in particular had caught Eron's attention, and held it for a while. She had hair that was an off-white color, and she was heterochromatic-one eye was bright blue and the other was a deep burgundy.

Almost like Cyrus Drake's adoptive daughter.

Why did Ambrose choose Eron? He wasn't magical. Wasn't magical at all. Couldn't use magic, probably didn't even have the capacity for it. It was why his father hated him. Why his sister gave him a look that was laced with pity and scorn. Why his cousins would laugh at him.

Eron hated his family. He hated them enough to flee his home and feel not even a shred of regret. He despised them enough to hiss their names every time he felt anger surge through his veins. Rolling onto his side, Eron threw the covers on his bed over his head, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a strong, powerful, angry breath.

Where did this road lead?

He coughed dismissively. That wasn't something he should think about. The future. The future was unknown, unpredictable and something he disliked. But alas, the future would eventually turn into the present, so there was no use in thinking about it until then.

Hauling himself out of bed, wings, tail and all, Eron stood tall, staring at the ground for a moment before he turned his attention to the window. From his raggedy dorm view, he was able to see a young couple sharing experiences beneath a tree, a second wizard whispering an incantation hurriedly before leaping into the air and unleashing the spell-a Storm Phoenix-that soared from the palm of his hand and vaporized the ground beneath him.

The wizard-female-had attracted Eron's full attention by this point, and he watched her as she entered a deadly dance with mild amusement.

Hm.

One eye was red, one blue. She was unique. An outcast, possibly.

Like him.

Eron stared at her for a moment longer and then pushed open the door to his dorm room, the floorboards creaking underneath his weight.

Might as well talk to her, right?

Couldn't hurt.

After all, time ran out eventually.

* * *

><p><strong>MW: So, to me, this felt a bit rushed, and I will be putting up revisions of this chapter in the future. This is what I have, for now, however. So, to answer questions...<strong>

**Q: Who is Eron?**

**A: A green-skinned (scaled, rather) Draconian who was once a part of one of the three royal Draconian families (I made that up-there needs to be some history for other races), House Viridian. He exiled himself and cut off all ties from his family after realizing that they were keeping him chained and effectively hampering him.**

**Q: Is Malistaire dead by this point? **

**A: No, but Ambrose has chosen a group to travel to Dragonspyre and defeat Malistaire, and they are to be assisted by Cyrus Drake. During his conversation with Astra, Cyrus assumes Ambrose will select members by the end of the week, but as shown when we take a look at Eron, he has selected team members already.**

**Q: Who is Talon really? Why is there another Talon?**

**A: There is another Talon because names aren't unique in the world of Wizard101. Sure, a few are, but assuming that Talon's a cool, slick name, and that other people are also named Talon, then of course, others will be named Talon. **

**One of the main characters in Down A Shadowed Road, who is referred to as "Talon" is really named Israfel Talon Bloodbane la Noir Corneille von la Crux et Brulant Ciel (Israfel Talon Bloodbane the Black Crow of the Cross and Burning Sky) but he goes by his middle name because it is both shorter and he himself has trouble pronouncing his name/titles since he speaks so quickly. His name has also evolved through his family, as it was initially just "Legendaire Suzerain von Crux" and as each of Thalomir's descendants gained prestige, they added to their titles and so on and so forth.**

**The Talon featured in this chapter and the next chapter is referred to as Talon Wood, or simply just "Wood" because he holds little significance. He isn't too powerful, much like Mirror, who will be introduced circa Chapter 9, but is smart and witty and uses this to his advantage. His appearance is semi-confusing because Astra has a fragmented memory and hallucinates Talon everytime she hears his name or imagines him with her. **

**Q: What was up with Astra?**

**A: She hallucinated that Talon was there, challenging her, encouraging her, hurting her. She was confused and afraid. Her memory is fragmented, keep that in mind.**

**Anywho, that's all for now, so stay tuned because SCHOOL IS KILLING ME GUH**


	9. At Last

**MW: Here with a new chapter. Surprisingly enough, this chapter came out quick. I was very excited to introduce new perspectives as well as new characters and interactions with old/new characters. I hope you enjoy this, and as always, I appreciate the support. **

**The next chapter will carry on from where this chapter ends, so expect lots of action...sure. **

* * *

><p><strong>9 - At Last<strong>

"Do you know why I released you?" The headmaster's voice creaked like old floorboards, and his eyes drooped terribly. Talon felt as if the headmaster was ready to stretch his limbs a final time and just end it. But despite all that, the headmaster retained a certain sharpness that was unnatural for someone his age. And he didn't forget. Ever.

Talon stared at Ambrose, shaking his head. "No, I don't. Should I?" It wasn't like Ambrose was a big fan of his, considering he killed one of the greatest Theurgists of his era in a fit of rage. Then again, Ambrose probably wasn't a big fan of anybody.

Ambrose gave a weak chuckle, and Talon wondered why. Did he say something funny? "No, my boy, you shouldn't. I...hm. I released you because I want to talk to you about your actions."

"If you're asking me to lament, I won't." Talon hissed, somewhat vehemently.

Ambrose ignored Talon and continued. "I want to know why you did it, that is all."

"Did what? I was charged for a few things, y'know," Talon said.

Ambrose coughed loudly. "Why you killed your stepfather," He paused, then sniffed, waiting for a response.

"Why do you think? He touched my brother. He touched me. He deserved to die because he was sick. Twisted, warped, filled with a desire that mimicked malice perfectly." Talon scoffed. "And you wonder why I did it…"

"Is that the truth or did you do it because the voice told you to?" Ambrose inquired, his eyes locked on Talon's now frozen figure.

"..What?" Was Talon's response.

"Don't mock my age, boy," Ambrose answered simply. "I know of Thalomir and his power. Considering the fact that you seem...older, I assume you've merged with him?"

Talon sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Look, I don't care if you were a friend of my father's and I don't care what you know about me-I just want to get Hunter and go home."

"If I remember correctly, you have no home, Talon." Ambrose responded. "But I am willing to help." Reaching underneath his desk, the headmaster grunted with slight effort and procured the same axe that Talon had used to slay his stepfather; the axe of Thalomir and the axe of gods.

Talon's eyes widened. "Where did you-"

"I put you in the jail, Talon." Ambrose explained. "I released you. I _saved _you."

Talon's shock morphed into fury. "You-! Why? Why the hell would you do that? My brother-_you left my brother on his own! _You gave me hell, and you say that you saved me? You...I should kill you here and now, you bastard. I should-"

"Without me, you would have never met Valkyrie. Your brother wouldn't have been able to enter Ravenwood and you two would be fugitives for the entirety of your lives. Without me, you wouldn't have learned Necromancy from a man who belongs in a hospital for the mentally impaired. You wouldn't have gotten stronger and you wouldn't live up to your family name."

"What-?"

"Thalomir is your ancestor, no? It is fate-no, destiny-that his ancestors face similar hardships and rise from the ashes to become heroes before they vanish from this world, leaving only their legacy behind."

"Are you telling me that you orchestrated this to fulfill some sort of prophecy?" Talon felt the rage bubble in his throat, and for the first time in years, Thalomir spoke again.

_**Restrain yourself, boy. The man is good, and knows what must be done. You will do yourself a favor by listening to one so wise. **_

"Not necessarily. I needed you to get stronger because there is a war coming." Ambrose tossed the axe out in front of his desk and Talon caught it, fumbling slightly. "This world-the Spiral-needs you. We need a hero." The headmaster's sparkling blue eyes found Talon's angry crimson ones and in that moment, Talon swore he saw Ambrose shed a tear.

At least the headmaster knew what had to be done for the sake of saving lives.

"Why me? You should know that I'm not strong enough to do this on my own…" Talon answered, surprisingly rejecting the idea of a fight. Like Thalomir, the boy reveled in the excitement of battle. Shunning the idea of war was...different. Talon shook his head as if he had realized he made a mistake. "No, no, stop. I don't want part in the war-"

"Talon, my child, you cannot escape whether you wish to or not. In the end, this war-a war with one of the most powerful beings in existence-will envelop all and every wizard who lives in the Spiral." Ambrose ran his fingers through his silver beard. "But you are not without assistance. Your team members are not here as some of them are out vanquishing a...considerably minor threat, when compared to one such as this, but I will list them for you."

"I-" Talon began, but Ambrose silenced him with a finger.

"To begin, your group-the primary fighting force-will consist of Miranda Moonstone, a Pyromancer with a fairly mean streak. She may rank below you, but in time she will discover her potential. Next-"

"Why would you pair someone unpredictable with me?" Talon cut in. "I mean, that's not to say I'm not unpredictable, but Thalomir and I work out tactics well enough and Dworgyn taught me some advanced spells." He concluded.

Ambrose shrugged. "To see how you'd manage as a leader of a team of misfits such as yourself." He said before chuckling slightly. "I jest, my child," Talon had a feeling that the older man was not joking. "But Mirror is useful and will spend her time proving herself on the battlefield."

Talon nodded in acknowledgment, deciding to give up arguing with the headmaster.

Ambrose cleared his throat and continued. "Next is Darrien Magnus Viridian XV, a former Draconian noble of the house Viridian. He cannot use magic as of yet, but is a very powerful fighter and strategist. You will have Hunter Lioncloud, a powerful Diviner who learned from...never mind. A powerful Diviner who will surely be a good addition to your team. If you feel unfit to lead, I assure you he can take control. James Duskstone, one of our legendary Thaumaturges here in Wizard City will be accompanying you as well, and will fulfill the role of a scout if need be." Ambrose cleared his throat again. "Any questions thus far?"

"Lioncloud? What's that supposed to mean? Only person I know named Lioncloud was…" Talon trailed off thoughtfully. "...Are you telling me that Lucas had a kid?"

Ambrose shrugged. "I'm not answering that one, Talon,"

Talon shook his head, dismissing the question any further. He didn't care-his problem was with Lucas, who was long dead, not his child. And how strange that the abusive man would name his kid after one he seemed to dislike so much. "I...I'm good. No more to ask."

Continuing once more, Ambrose sniffed. "In order to make you feel just a little more like a leader, I have given you Leif Shadowspear, a Magus, just like Mirror. He is very quiet, but I have a feeling he will open up to you. Lastly, you will have one of my most energetic students, William Lightningwind and whoever he hopes to bring along-"

Yet again, Ambrose was interrupted. "Whoever he hopes to bring along? What's that supposed to mean?"

Ambrose shrugged again, a smirk forming in his mind. He was content with being cryptic for the time being. "You're the leader. You control their actions, I don't."

Talon scoffed and looked away.

"Anyways, as I was saying, you will have the Diviner William Lightningwind and whoever he decides to bring with him and one of our newer students who you're _very_ familiar with, Astra Drake." Talon waited for him to finish this time. "Since we have no knowledge of our...opponent's movements, you will work with your team for six weeks. By that time, you should have sufficient control over your team members and we should be ready for war."

"I only know one Astra, and her name isn't Drake. ...Do you enjoy this?" Talon asked, the anger filling him again. "Do you enjoy toying with me like this?"

Ambrose did not respond to his questions. "I'm sure you know this Astra quite well, my boy. Though she may not remember you." He clapped his hands together. "Well! In the meantime, I have prepared for you a dorm-it's just left into Ravenwood and right around the corner-which you will be sharing with another, unfortunately. As an adult, I expect you to be able to take care of yourself, so here-" He produced a pouch of gold from thin air and threw it at Talon, who caught it clumsily, "-buy your own furniture and other appliances. Until then, my boy!"

"Wait-!" Talon began, but his vision was rudely blocked by the silvery feathers of the abnormally intelligent owl, Gamma and stumbled backwards out of the headmaster's office through the now open door.

And once again, he was on his own. Talon almost felt inclined to welcome the solitude, but it wouldn't last for long because he was being thrust headlong into a war he knew almost nothing about with people he barely knew or trusted. On top of that, he had a roommate who he was sure couldn't be trusted. If someone were testing his mental stability, they would have to be sure to note that six years in prison had turned him into a rage-filled cynic.

He sighed in exasperation and scratched at the back of his head. "Oh, man. ...Thalomir? You there, Thalomir?"

_**The way you call me so casually angers me. **_

"What do you want me to say?" Talon inquired aloud as he began walking before realizing that he had no idea where the bazaar was and focused his attention on his current conversation. "Do you want me to call you by your title? That's like if you called me by my full name every time you spoke to me. You just call me 'boy', so why can't I just call you 'Thalomir'?"

_**That is true. **_

"See?" Talon shook his head. "Alright, whatever. I'm just going to go and check out the dorm...left into Ravenwood and then right, he said..?" Talon questioned, to reassure himself that he was right. He turned left from the gates lesson to Ambrose's office and glanced up, the large letters that spelled out ""R-A-V-E-N-W-O-O-D" mesmerizing. He hadn't quite seen anything like it, having grown up in Marleybone. Everything he had seen so far in Wizard City was so...pristine, but granted, he had only seen the jails and pieces of Briskbreeze, Colossus Avenue and the Commons, so there wasn't much he could call pretty. Talon pulled himself from his dazed state and entered the gate, inching through the bustling throng of wizards, young and fairly old as best he could. For a moment in the "gate"-which more resembled a tunnel than a gate-Talon was submerged in darkness, and the moment his eyes began to adjust to the change in brightness, he was thrust back into light again.

Whoa.

What he was greeted with was vastly different from his home in Marleybone. Sure, he'd been with his father to a variety of places, but the last time he was in Wizard City, he was two years old, and like hell he'd be able to remember that. His eyes lingered on Bartleby and the trees _with eyes_ that looked at him and the crowd of wizards as he entered Ravenwood for the first time in his life. Well, maybe the second, but that was unnecessary.

_**Ha! A being of your power should be marveled. You should be-**_

"Shut up for a second," Talon hissed absentmindedly. His brain began to fail, and he felt as if he were a child who believed they could drink an entire glass of milk without stopping to breathe, and attempted to, but failed miserably, choking on the milk and spitting it out repeatedly.

"First time?"

Talon was snapped back to reality, and he whirled around hastily, staring at the person who had placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flashed for a split-second out of...fear? But he regained his composure swiftly and unnoticably. "You are..?" He asked instead.

"Mirror," The girl said, her eyes locking with his. She extended her hand in a gesture of friendliness.

She was short. Well, shorter than Talon, and Talon was definitely short for both his age and a Marleybonian. 5'6" wasn't an intimidating height for a Marleybonian male such as himself and her 5'3" wasn't all too representative of her power. Assuming she was strong, of course.

"I'm-" Talon was interrupted by Thalomir's voice. The overlord seemed almost afraid, or at least, concerned for Talon's safety? This was new. Usually Thalomir would give Talon information that would ensure his own survival, not the boy's.

_**Israfel. Don't say what you like to be called. They know you here. They know the you who revels in violence, the you who lives to kill. They can use it against you. Israfel. **_

"I'm Israfel," Talon responded, his lips curling upwards to form a slight smile. Israfel. Too long. Too...unique. Too nostalgic. He didn't need that name anymore, but if it guaranteed his safety, he would use it. No matter how much it bothered him.

"Wow," Mirror responded. "Haven't heard something like it before. It's hella cute." She took his hand and shook it.

Cute? His name was cute? What?

"Yours, too. Did you change your name?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound rude. Talon was never too great at talking to girls-excluding Astra, of course-and although he was usually the one to flirt, he was never able to start an actual, casual conversation. His eyes scanned over her body this time, and he noticed that compared to the other wizards, Mirror's robes were baggy and loose. She looked...sloppy, to say the least. Her hair was short and messy, and her bangs hung over her face, covering but not entirely hiding a majority of the left half of her face. Her eyes were a beautiful vermillion, like her hair (which was clearly dyed) and she was curvy but not overly so. Not like...Astra. She was cute, and even Thalomir thought so.

_**If you ever feel like running from your...commitment, run to this one, boy. **_

"The hell, man?" Talon hissed under his breath.

Mirror broke their handshake and Talon could've sworn he deflated. She never answered his question.

No, not now. He was an adult, and he was committed to Astra, no matter what. His lust would not control him. He would remain faithful because he loved Astra. He didn't need immediate gratification. Control his emotions, Shina had taught him. Control.

"I'm...uh, looking for my dorm-Ambr-the headmaster said I'd be sharing it with someone else but I'm not sure where it is…" He trailed off.

"Hm. I'm getting a new roommate, too." Mirror exclaimed. "Anyways, do you know what it looks like?"

Talon shrugged. "It's supposedly around the corner from the gates,"

"It might be that one...ask that guy," Mirror responded, pointing to a heavily armored young man standing guard near the dorms.

Talon gave her a grin. "Thanks. See you around, then." He didn't wait for a response, turning away quickly and striding over to the armored man. No point in furthering his relations with her. She would detract him from his course. His commitment. Make him unfaithful. "Hi, can you tell me where the dorm...uh...around the corner from the gates is?" He asked the wizard, unsure of both himself and the amount of faith he put in Ambrose.

The man jerked his thumb behind him, to a large dormitory that more resembled a spiraling tower with long appendages that serves as hallways (?) than an apartment. "Be more vigilant, kid. You could get lost and then hurt if people like me weren't around." He said.

Talon faked a smile, briskly walking towards the tower. "If people like you were around, I'd blow my brains out," he muttered cheekily.

Pushing open the maple wood door of the "dorm" with more force than necessary, Talon glanced upwards, staring at the staircase that spiraled almost continuously upwards in slight awe. "Aw, hell," he exclaimed. "I don't know where my room is, and I have no clue who my roommate is…" He glanced around. "Not like I can ask…" Talon trailed off.

Talon sighed in exasperation. Unfortunately, since things were looking fairly grim-okay, well not _grim_, but he was becoming frustrated at his current situation-he'd have to backtrack and ask the headmaster for his room number and a pair of keys. And while he was at it, he might ask where he could get a fresh pair of clothes since he was clad in the dirty pants that gave him some mobility, but still not enough, and a raggedy short sleeve shirt that was too small for him-the same clothes he had worn all those years before. He was surprised they even still fit, but then again, four inches wasn't much to be proud of.

* * *

><p>"Whoa," Talon exclaimed, wiping his brow. It had been about noon when he'd arrived in the dormitory, but now, after he hauled ass and managed to buy his own furniture and clothes with the astonishingly large amount of gold Ambrose had given him, it was already late into the evening, and his roommate hadn't shown their face.<p>

The unofficial Necromancer exhaled and spread himself on the large, three person bed he was barely able to afford with the last bit of gold he'd been given. It was made for three people, sure, but Talon slept in a number of ways that weren't exactly convenient or conventional, so he'd bought a large bed to avoid cramps and remain comfortable through the night. Or even the day.

Fidgeting with his fingers and cracking his knuckles, Talon allowed his mind to wander. Ambrose had said he would be a leader. A leader...leading was never something he thought of, nor something he was sure he could do. Sure, he acted confident, but didn't everybody?

_**There is no shame in being afraid.**_

"I know, but…" Talon began slowly. "All my life, someone has been controlling me. I'm used to it-I'm used to the supporting role. I'm the soldier that obeys the orders of his king, y'know?"

_**I was like you once. My masters...my creators controlled me. I was a tool, meant to do the work when they did not feel the urge to. So I turned on them. I became my own king, and I began my own legacy.**_

"It wasn't easy, was it?"

_**What do you think?**_

The front door of dorm room fifty-seven opened and Talon tilted his head to glance at the newcomer who happened to be a girl, maybe a few years his junior, with an attractive face, slender but developed (enough) figure, and short, shoulder length hair. She looked familiar.

Talon shrugged his shoulders and rolled over, closing his eyes. He didn't need to introduce himself right now-it could wait. The feeling of being in a bed that wasn't the damp, rocky ground of his prison cell.

Sleep was really what he needed now.

Sleep clawed at him like a wild beast, cutting deep into his flesh, barely allowing him free movement within its grasp. It wanted him. It _needed_ him. It called to him. But...despite Talon's immense desire for sleep, he simply was unable to stay asleep.

Fear kept him awake. What did he have to be afraid of? The only thing that stood out to him the most was the fact that he was going to be a leader. He couldn't lead. Talon couldn't bear the burden of having people rely on him. Even when he was fleeing with Hunter, he consulted Thalomir, albeit unwillingly. He whispered to the heavens for advice and broke down when he felt like he couldn't take it anymore.

Even though he had trained under a female Draconian-who resembled a black clad Earth hero obsessed with justice-to develop mental fortitude to keep himself sane what with Thalomir inside his head and all, fear stopped him.

Aw, hell, he needed to get out. Throwing the sheets off of him, the nineteen year old climbed out of bed, fumbling around for anything he might recognize as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Finding the doorknob first, Talon tugged open the door, and the cool night breeze washed over him, even in the hallway, probably blowing in from an open window. The cold was never really his thing, and he was tempted to close the door immediately.

Mentally overriding his instinct-and realizing that he hadn't taken anything off to sleep yet-Talon strode out into the dark dorm hallway, closing his door as quietly as he could behind him. He glanced left and right, unable to see and unsure of what to do next.

_Senses,_ Shina had told him as he struggled to lift himself up. It was only one hundred push-ups, but granted, Talon had been fourteen and never exercised before. _Uses your senses, boy. Keep yourself alert at all times. If you can't see, use your ears. If you can't hear, use your eyes. _

Inhaling deeply, Talon closed his eyes and focused on the world surrounding him. Straining his ears, he forced himself to push as far as his physical limits would allow. A creak nearly startled him. But from where? Another creak, and the turning of the doorknob.

Behind?

Talon whirled around, pressing himself against the wall adjacent from his the door to his room, which squeaked open.

What..? His room?

Talon narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see the person across from him as they exited the room, but he was unable to make out any sort of defining features.

But he could've sworn he saw yellow eyes and a snout.

_**Something is wrong. Stay alert. **_

Should he attack?

Shina had never taught Talon how to conceal himself since she had never had to conceal _herself_, but granted, Talon had no need to, for the stranger saw him first and froze.

So much for not attacking. This person was a stranger in Talon's eyes, and had broken into Talon's dorm room. Maybe even killed his roommate.

Talon had learned to overcome shock's initial paralysis. He swiftly closed the gap between himself and his new opponent, aiming a kick at their legs. The figure managed to jump, but upon landing was unbalanced enough for Talon to press on.

He threw his fists as close as he could to the enemy's face, realizing that his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and he could see, albeit very little.

_**Be careful, child.**_

Thalomir's voice rang out as Talon narrowly dodged a blow from his opponent. "I know what I'm doing," he hissed back, as quietly as possible. Flicking his left hand upwards towards his enemy, Talon raised his right hand to throw a punch at the stranger, a pair of skeletal hands erupting from the floor to grasp the ankles of the unsuspecting foe. The soft, deathly gasp of the souls below echoed through the hall, the sound gentle yet haunting.

"Gotcha," Talon hissed as his fist drew nearer to what he could almost make out as the stranger's face. Snout, rather.

Without warning, the corridor was suddenly illuminated by a flash of purple electricity and Talon heard the screams of the dead cut short as the skeletal hands were vaporized and became naught but a pile of ash. His fist sailed over his opponent's head as the stranger bent backwards to dodge, supporting themselves with their hands in a position reminiscent of a bridge.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Talon glanced downwards, as the purple electricity began to crackle for the last time, re-illuminating the dark corridor, and temporarily rendering his sight useless. A mask-a wolf mask. And a lightning user-A Diviner? What was a such a person doing in the dorms?

Long blonde hair flowed from behind the wolf mask. It looked silky...a girl?

_**Talon!**_

Talon had no time to wonder any further, as time sped up once more and the wolf threw her foot into Talon's unprotected groin. Fortunately, the nineteen year old did not double over, simply gritting his teeth and attempting to fight the overbearing pain. It hurt so much, though, and he did have to squeeze his legs together to avoid the pain.

Unfortunately, Talon was struck again as the girl shoved her boot into Talon's face, pushing him backwards and causing him to crash to the ground. Before his head hit the wooden floor, however, the girl slid her foot where he would've landed, and her toe hit the back of Talon's head.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

He was still alive. And as long as he was alone, he could fight back.

_**Shield, boy, shield!**_

As such, the girl struck him again, her fist hitting against his stomach with a soft thump. Talon coughed first, and made an attempt to throw her away from him in order to regain his balance and composure, but instead screamed in agony as lightning burst forth from the girl's palm and coursed through Talon, from his abdomen throughout his body.

Of course, the lightning blast was short. Like lightning bolts in most storms, the bolt only existed for three milliseconds, but that was enough to stop Talon's heart. The boy lay on the ground, a hole burned into the stomach of his new shirt, his dark skin littered with wounds, some even lightning shaped. The masked girl stood over him for a short time before sprinting down the hallway and darting down the stairs out of the dorm.

If the screams were not enough to rouse all of the wizards on Talon's floor, then the smell of burning flesh definitely was. It was about two or three minutes from the time Talon's heart stopped and his attacker fled for a wizard to carry him to the nearest professional Theurgist.

It was about seven or eight minutes from the time Talon's heart stopped that the Theurgist began to treat him. And by Bartleby, his heart began to pump again. Granted, the young Necromancer would be unconscious for about three days, but he would survive.

Talon may have paid little attention to his ancestor's actions and comments, but he could've sworn he heard Thalomir breathe a sigh of relief when he awoke after the third day.

* * *

><p>James exhaled, pushing his upper torso above the water. He blinked repeatedly, an attempt to keep the water dripping from his forehead away from his eyes. The fifteen year old's pale skin glistened in the bathroom light, and his white hair was matted down, stuck to his cheeks, giving him an almost ghastly appearance.<p>

He climbed out of the bathtub, his sharp, grey-blue eyes searching the bathroom tile for a place to step. He shrugged to himself and his feet pressed against the cold tile, cold air washing over him. He barely shivered. Cold was nothing to him, but granted, he was a Thaumaturge. Still bare, James strode over to the mirror, gazing at his reflection flatly. He reached for his toothbrush, unscrewing the lid of the toothpaste as he did so. After running over his teeth with the toothbrush rigorously, James spat out the accumulated paste and rinsed his mouth.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, James opened the bathroom door and strode over to his closet. Thankfully, he didn't have a roommate. It was alright, though, because in the end, he didn't really need one. It was something he'd pondered over for a short time since his dorm did contain a second bed. It wasn't like he was two people. And as far as he knew, no one else had been assigned to his room.

Today...the Thaumaturge glanced at the calendar that was clumsily nailed to the wall spanning from his closet to the front door. The day was circled on the calendar, a note in black marker reading "Ambrose Team Training". James shrugged to himself. At least he wasn't leading a team. Leading was never his speciality. He just hoped that whoever Ambrose had chosen to lead the team (and James had heard very much about his teammates) was up to the challenge.

As James slid on his clothes, he thought about the team Ambrose had assigned. A Thaumaturge (himself), a Grandmaster Necromancer as the leader, a Legendary Conjurer who was considered higher than Cyrus Drake himself, a Diviner who was a natural born leader (yet wasn't the team's leader), a Draconian whom James learned was unable to use magic, a Magus Theurgist who was described as fairly timid but having limitless potential, a Magus Pyromancer who was described by Ambrose as having a mean streak and a knack for patronization, as well as an eccentric Diviner who was rumored to have two other wizards in tow.

How hectic. To him, the team lineup just seemed...wrong. With that many clashing personalities, there would be problems. People fighting with one another for the title of leader, for the position of leader-for authority and power of nothing else. James didn't know these people personally, but it could be assumed that at least one would flake and break under the mental strain of war.

Whatever. It wasn't his position to judge anyways. For the time being, he would do as instructed, and make sure that he was discreet when it came to uncovering information.

James looked at the calendar once more before turning away, scooping a pair of keys off of his dresser and exiting his dorm.

He began the short trek to Ambrose's office, checking his pockets and making sure he had everything he needed. The undisputable feeling that he was missing something-a feeling that stuck with him as long as he could remember-tugged at him again, but he ignored it. He was just doubting himself, and nothing too great came from that.

It wasn't all the time that James forgot, anyways, and when he did, it was never anything major.

When James did arrive at the office, he took note of the five wizards standing at attention in the room.

Three of them were whispering to one another, which indicated close relations. James had met William Lightningwind before, and as such was able to pick him out as one of the three. It wasn't difficult, especially taking into account William's multicolored hair. Another, slightly older-looking man was next to him, his lips pressed together in a tight line. His hair was a dark brown, and his eyes were an attention-drawing opal color. He looked vexed, almost as if he was bothered by William's obnoxious behavior, yet did nothing to stop it. The third and final wizard was around 5'3" and had white hair that hung low over his face, covering his forehead and slipping into his eyes. He was lanky and had tan skin, his face more gaunt than any James had seen before. He was not ugly by any means, but rather ghastly and seemingly hollow.

The other two wizards looked uninterested. They were both female, and both stared at some invisible object with random, unfounded interest.

Where was the Draconian? Not there yet, presumably.

One of the women-the one on James' left, closest to the door-gave him a sidelong glance as he entered. Her hair was red, a beautiful scarlet that gently slipped into a dark burgundy and then a soft brown where the hair ended and curled. She brushed her fingertips along the back of a small dragon that appeared almost as cold as she did.

James turned his attention to the last wizard in the room-the second woman. She looked younger than any of the other wizards in the room, himself included, and her hair-like William's-was dyed. It was jet black in color, but the light brown it had been was still visible, if just barely. Her eyes were a bright scarlet color, prearranged into a glare, and her teeth pressed down gently on the edge of her lips, giving her a rebellious air.

But what was she glaring at? Retreating from the door into the office, James caught Ambrose's eye, and the old man smiled. James gave a slight smile in return, and stared intently at the newcomers.

A boy-at least, James thought he saw a boy-walked into the room, his head down and his faint mumbles about oversleeping were audible in the now silent room. The newcomer was clad in robes that were a bright green with black trim-the Theurgist of the group. It was definitely eye-catching, but the most interesting thing about him was how he looked. His hair was shaggy and curled up at the ends, but his face (when he looked up at Ambrose, of course) was so delicate and feminine that James had trouble believing the Theurgist was a boy.

The second of the four wizards who walked in was a calm looking boy, as opposed to the jittery or unusually _not _nervous individuals who currently occupied the office. His hair was a dark burgundy-it was _also_ dyed-like his eyes (those _weren't _dyed), which were a beautiful and captivating shade of vermillion. James could've sworn that he saw lightning spark around the boy's figure as he entered the office, and narrowed his eyes, intrigued. The sound of a lightning bolt was audible as the boy climbed up the steps.

Then the Draconian entered, in all of his green-scaled glory. He wore armor of a soft blue hue, the designs on the armor outlined in platinum. James met eyes with the Draconian who simply snorted and turned his head away.

The door hung open for a short time, and James would've tilted his head to glance out of the door in order to affirm his belief that no one else was coming if it was not for the klutz who tripped on the steps, falling axe first onto the office floor. The axe the Necromancer (as James could tell by his black armor) was holding broke the wood of the office floor where it landed, and a sharp crack could be heard as his face landed against the steps.

"Fuuuuuuck!" Was the cry of anguish that the Necromancer yelled out as he threw himself backwards, clutching at his nose. He blinked, his eyes searching the room and noticing all the quizzical or disapproving looks he received, chuckles nervously. "Uh...Hi," he mumbled in response.

"Talon," Ambrose began.

James noticed the ombré haired girl touch her head and squeeze her eyes shut tightly. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, however.

So this was Talon. The Necromancer. The leader? No, there was another Necromancer in the room. The timid, shy man with white hair. But this man, even though he clutched at his nose, even though a trail of blood was visible through the gaps between his fingers, and even though he looked...well, not well taken care of, something about him captivated James-drew him in, to the point where he was unable to escape the sand of hidden potential that swallowed him unaware.

Talon stood again, removing his hands from his nose-which James noticed had mended roughly within that minute and a half-and wiped the trail of blood from his face. "Sorry I'm late, kids," he exclaimed, running his eyes along every person in the room. His eyes lingered on the young man with burgundy hair and eyes and the woman James assumed was the Conjurer-the one with an ombré red hairstyle. Nevertheless, the Necromancer retained his composure. "So, how does this work?"

The same girl who had touched her temple earlier did so once again, and turned away this time, slightly doubling over in pain. James was puzzled, but thought nothing of it. Wasn't really his problem.

The question was directed towards Ambrose. James turned to look at the headmaster, who responded simply with, "You're the leader, you make the decisions. I'm simply...the figurehead."

The Necromancer gave the old man a look of absolute confusion before sighing, shaking his head, and simply saying, "Meet me in Briskbreeze," and teleporting from the room.

Briskbreeze? How did Talon leave so fast? Did he mark Briskbreeze or something? Why Briskbreeze? Wasn't that a prison? How were they supposed to get there? What were they going to do, anyways? It wasn't as if Talon had the teaching skills necessary to manage a team. Or at least, from what James could tell. Talon's mannerisms spoke relative volumes about his personality. The way he casually addressed both the group and Ambrose, the way he stood, and things of the like.

Despite all that, James wasn't one to question the appointed team leader, and strode out of the open office door towards Colossus Boulevard.

What a day.

* * *

><p><strong>MW: So, now that it's over and done, I will do some review replies.<strong>

**Guest: Lucas is dead, man. Sorry to tell you. Don't worry, milk fixes everything. Just kidding. But on a serious note, Lucas IS dead, and there are only bits and pieces about him yet he has an incredible impact on both Talon and Hunter. I like leaving things to the imagination which is why I neither flesh out Lucas nor have characters really talk about him.**

**James Firecrafter: Yeah, Eron is definitely one of my favorites to write about. He's very...troubled. Hah! No, Cyrus denied Astra the opportunity to spar because he didn't feel it was necessary. Do what you must, right? In all honesty, parts of the story are left vague because I like the theories and ideas you guys create.**

**Ammaarah01: Whoops, my bad on that Talon Wood mess up. No one cares about Talon Wood, man, he's just a filler character meant to cause Astra pain as she regains her memories. His only relation with the character "Talon" is that they share the same name, though "Talon" is a nickname. **

**Q: Where's Shina?**

**A: She's out for now. Most likely taking care of Valdus or honing her skills. If I do a Valdus side story, she'll be of more importance.**

**Q: Why doesn't Astra react upon seeing Talon?**

**A: Sometimes she reacts immediately, sometimes she doesn't. Talon was pretty abrupt with his entrance and exit, and you'll notice that Astra really reacts when she hears his name repeatedly, is talking to him directly or if Talon says something that he said when they were younger. She does clutch her head in pain, however. **

**Q: Whose perspective will we see next?**

**A: Hunter's and Valkyrie's.**

**Q: What happened to Valkyrie?**

**A: You'll see. **


	10. Heavenly Voice, Hellish Embrace Part I

**MW: Yo! Here is the first part of chapter ten. Please enjoy, and review! If you got questions, PM or review! Thanks.**

**WARNING: If you are either younger than eighteen, unable to handle graphic scenes, or just incredibly sensitive to violence, nudity and sexual themes, please skip over the entirety of Astra's italicized part. Matter of fact, don't skip it. You can handle it. It's necessary for the story. FOR THE PLOT! No, but in all seriousness, if you are any of those things, skip it. There's a reason I changed the rating to M. Thanks.**

* * *

><p><strong>10 - Heavenly Voice, Hellish Embrace Part I<strong>

When Hunter was offered power by Halston Balestrom, he figured that it was a one time thing. That Balestrom would just...shoot the power into him or something. Granted, he didn't know much about magic then, and was only twelve. He didn't expect to be able to sit with the other students in the classroom and learn with them. He didn't expect to have a dorm room that he would end up sharing with a girl who he came to love-at least, before she went missing.

When Hunter was offered power, he didn't think that he was going to be seeing Talon again. The whole reason he'd accepted the offer was because he wanted to save his brother, but every time, he realized that Talon had a life sentence. A life sentence. The prison wardens eventually took away Talon's privilege to have visitors because people would always want to talk to him and he didn't seem to be "learning his lesson". Hunter hated himself for it, but he let go of Talon and forged his own path in remembrance and honor of his brother, whom he would never see again.

That's what he thought. Initially, at least.

Yet here he was, standing in Headmaster Ambrose's office, staring at a boy with shaggy black hair and flashing crimson eyes who Ambrose had clearly referred to as "Talon".

Were his ears deceiving him? Was he driving himself insane? Was this guilt? Had Sabrina's disappearance triggered something in him that caused him to hallucinate people he loved? What the hell was this?

No, no, it couldn't be Talon. Talon had a life sentence. Talon was in prison. He was never going to see Talon again. It was just someone who looked like him. Yeah, that's it. Had to be.

If that was the case, then that meant…

Aliens were real. Extraterrestrial-or rather, extra-Spiral-galaxy life existed. Of course, people on Earth were technically aliens, but they were familiar with the inhabitants of the Spiral. Or maybe the Spiral was familiar with the inhabitants of Earth. Whatever. The appearance of this alien before him only meant that there was life on other galaxies, and that life could galaxy hop, imitate behaviors and mannerisms to the nth degree and possibly wipe out all other races.

"Meet you all in Briskbreeze," the Talon-like thing said in resignation before teleporting out of the room.

Hunter was the second one to teleport out. In fact, he had the entrance of Briskbreeze marked, as he would simply stand in front of the gates. Was it to recollect? Maybe. Was it just simply for nostalgia? Maybe. Hunter was never quite sure _why_ he did it, he just knew that he did. He loved his brother and was never able to completely process losing him.

He arrived at the entrance to the prison in a flash of purple and gold, greeted by the Talon look alike. "What are you?" Hunter hissed impulsively.

Talon shrugged. "I'm a wizard, I think," he responded sarcastically. "Who are _you_?"

Hunter gave the alien a hateful glare. "I'm Hunter." He paused before deciding to skip straight to the point. "Do you know a Talon Bloodbane? No, to hell with it-you _do_ know a Talon Bloodbane, I _know_ you do. What did you do to him?"

"I _am_ Talon Bloodbane," Talon exclaimed, slightly taken aback. The conversation remained uninterrupted even as who he figured was the Thaumaturge trudged over towards them.

"Talon Bloodbane has a life sentence," Hunter responded.

"Ambrose bailed me out. Six years of nonsensical punishment for nothing and I get out."

"You're lying." The grass was surprisingly green that day, and served to draw Hunter's attention as he waited for a response from Talon.

"Ask him yourself, then, asshole," Talon responded angrily. "I deal with pricks like you all the time, and frankly, I've had enough. I just want to get this training-this war-over with and then I'm taking my brother somewhere else."

Hunter gritted his teeth. He didn't have to ask Ambrose himself, because there was one more thing he could ask that would reveal the truth. One more thing. "Fine then. Tell me-is Astra coming back?"

It had seemed the rest of the team members had caught up by now and were standing around lazily, waiting for Talon's instructions.

The Necromancer was, however, enraptured by his own memories, and his eyes grew bloodshot, a tear finding its way down his cheek and to his chin. "No," he whispered. After a long pause and a sickening amount of silence slithered through the tension, Talon asked, "...Are you my brother?"

Hunter felt a plethora of emotions demolish his train of thought, and he stumbled into the embrace Talon presented to him, his chest tightening. "I am," the Diviner exclaimed. "I am!"

Talon pushed Hunter away, gripping the younger brother's shoulders as he inquired, "You didn't do anything stupid while I was gone, did you?" He brushed a hand across his face, wiping away the tears.

Hunter shook his head, smiling slightly. "I didn't, Talon." Well, so much for aliens existing. Hunter felt a pang of anger towards his older sibling for crushing his hopes and dreams, but that slight anger was overwhelmed by his joy. "I mean, I changed my name, but that's all."

Talon paused. "You're Hunter _Lioncloud_ now?" He inquired, a dangerous note in his voice. His eyes have off a dull glow, and Hunter almost felt threatened.

"The team members are here," the younger of the two responded quietly, and Talon tore his attention away from his brother.

"We'll talk later," he said simply.

He stepped back from his brother as Talon prepared himself to greet his team members. They were roughly arranged into a line spreading horizontally, so Hunter simply slid into an open spot next to two redheads.

"So, uh...I guess we'll start with names? Left to right then," Talon exclaimed, clearing his throat before his voice cracked. He first pointed at the trio on the far left. "You're starting," he declared.

"I'm Will," the tallest wizard chirped, waving his hand eagerly. He looked older than Talon (excluding the fact that his hair was a horrendous blend of colors), but was clearly far less mature.

"I am Maximillion Goldstar. Pleased to meet you," the shortest of the three exclaimed, stepping forwards and extending his hand to Talon. The Necromancer faltered for a moment before shaking Max's hand slowly. Max smiled and stepped backwards again, taking his position in the trio.

The third wizard-the only of the group with white hair-remained silent for almost a minute before he spoke. "Vincent," he muttered. He gave Talon a sidelong glance before averting his eyes as if repulsed. Hunter noticed that Talon's lips twitches, but surprisingly, the once short-tempered leader managed to muster some self-control and restrain himself.

The large, bulky Draconian next to Vincent sighed in exasperation and simply said, "Why do we gotta do this?" He sounded annoyed.

Talon crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't trust any of you nor do I want to work with you," he began. "But if we're to work together, then you need to cooperate. Got it?" His eyes flashed, and he glared at the Draconian.

The green-scaled Draconian gave a grunt and mumbled, "I'm Eron," his arms hung at his sides and he attempted to give Talon a glare, but faltered midway and instead averted his gaze, choosing to look at the girl next to him.

"I'm Leif," The...girl squeaked out, clutching her staff tightly. Her robes were a soft green blended with shades of brown. "I'm a boy," Leif exclaimed, a bit louder this time, before he shrunk into himself.

_Wait, what?_

The girl was actually a boy? Or was the girl a boy from the start? How could Hunter be so mistaken? Was he that lonely? Was he that stupid? What?

He shook himself from his daze and turned his attention towards the next girl. He was sure it was a girl.

Hunter glanced at Talon. The look on his face said that he'd met her before. Was it Astra? Hunter leaned forward slightly and looked left. It wasn't Astra; the girl didn't have red hair. It was dyed-like his-but she looked young. Younger than Astra might've looked, were she here, of course.

Wait, did that girl-the one Hunter was looking at-did she just blush? Wow, even Hunter didn't realize he was that attractive. He made to fan himself in an act of narcissism, but paused. Oh, wait, she was looking at Talon. Hunter shrugged.

Talon had only been with one girl before, so it was only logical to let him have this one. Hunter got all the other girls anyways. He _was_ the more attractive one. Not to say Talon _wasn't _attractive, but since his time in prison, his skin had become calloused and scarred. For instance, a lightning bolt-shaped scar ran from his lower abdomen to his collarbone (which Hunter could see now as Talon scratched his abdomen, casually lifting his shirt in order to better rid himself of what seemed like an itch), and his right arm was covered in various cuts and bite marks. Bite marks? God, what did Talon have to go through in prison? Just what could he do that would cause someone to _bite_ him?

"I'm Mirror," the girl said, turning her nose away and letting out a powerful breath of annoyance. Talon stared at her blankly, before turning to the girl next to her.

"You-" he began, but stopped abruptly, frozen in his position, his jaw hanging low. He looked as if he were about to explode, or at least cry. Talon didn't do either, as both his emotions and thoughts lay in suspended animation. Well, it looked like it.

The redhead that returned his blank stare with one of her own crossed her arms over her chest, and took the initiative, introducing herself. "I'm Astra Drake," she said simply. A small dragon perched on her shoulder and screeched loudly. Astra brushed her index finger against its chin and gave a small smile.

Hunter gawked. Astra? _The_ Astra? Astra Snaketongue was here? What was this? "Astra..?" Hunter asked, feeling like he was missing something. "Is it really you?" He stepped out of his place in the semi-circle they had created and walked over to her.

"No, I'm an alien," she responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Hunter would have leapt backwards in surprise if not for her continuing with, "No, I'm Astra. Who are you?"

"Who am I? It's me, Hunter," Hunter exclaimed excitedly. He pointed back towards his brother. "That's-well, you already know who he is; he doesn't look any different. But you may not remember me cause my hair's red." He lifted the hair that hung over his forehead and grinned.

Astra gave him a quizzical stare. "This is the first time I've met you. Don't act like you know me, kid." She responded, a bit more dismissive this time.

"What do you mean..?" Hunter asked, confused. "You know me. You've met me before-we were younger, remember?" He laughed nervously. "You remember, right?"

Astra rolled her eyes. "Look, bud. I don't know you, and I've never met you before. Take this as a warning: I don't like pranks...So I'd advise you to _back off_."

Hunter opened his mouth in protest, but decided against it and retreated into the line. He said nothing, feeling slightly nauseous. _What was that? What the hell? Wasn't that Astra? Why didn't she remember him? What the hell?_ Hunter glanced at his brother, who looked shaken, but composed enough to continue.

"...R...Right then," Talon exclaimed, his voice noticeably quieter. "You're next, and then...and then I'll go." The Necromancer leading the group pointed to the Thaumaturge, the quiet-looking man whose eyes flicked about cautiously, as if he was trying to discern whether or not he would be attacked.

The birds chirped and the sun bore down on the members of the team, beads of sweat glistening on each of their foreheads.

"James Duskstone. I can function as reconnaissance if need be," He exclaimed, his voice sounding cheerful. Hunter frowned. Something about the Thaumaturge seemed...fake. Robotic, maybe? An alien..._What if the Thaumaturge was an alien_?

That wasn't implausible.

Hunter pushed this thought out of his head and turned towards Talon. His brother looked...afraid, but continued on anyways.

"I'm...Israfel, but you can call me-"

"What kind of name is Israfel?" Astra asked, interrupting him, her arms crossed over her chest. Hunter could've sworn Talon choked.

This scene was all too familiar...it was very reminiscent of what Astra had said upon meeting Talon and Hunter for the first time. It was the main reason Talon didn't go by his first name. But why now? Why did she have to bring this up now? Why was she here? Why why why?

"It's an old name…" Talon muttered, his eyes finding the ground. He sighed aloud. "Look-I can't at a do this," he concluded and promptly teleported away, presumably to his room.

Hunter decided to step in. "I guess-I guess that concludes the team...meeting for today?" When he received blank stares, he shook his head in dismissal. "We'll try this again tomorrow. For now, just go about your business."

Murmurs of "what's his problem?" and "why'd I have to get put on this team?" surfaced throughout the crowd as they dispersed, and Hunter swallowed painfully. Astra…what the hell was this? He ran a hand over his face in disbelief before deciding he had more than just a few questions for Ambrose.

* * *

><p>"What the <em>hell<em>?!"

Ambrose stared at the man before him in mild amusement, wondering silently how a descendant of Thalomir-a person who could retain composure even during war-was so moody and...insatiable. Alas, Valdus was very similar as well, so it was not too surprising to watch Talon bounce back and forth like a child.

"You put _her_ in my team? Astra? A girl who I used to love, a girl who tried to kill me and the same girl who left me all those years ago? What the hell, man?!"

"I did," Ambrose responded calmly, resisting the urge to burst into a fit of laughter.

"Why? You knew this would happen, so why would you-" Talon protested.

Ambrose suddenly became more serious, and raised a finger to silence the Necromancer. "You only acted that way because of your inability to control your emotions. Did the Draconian woman not teach you well enough?" A hint of triumph lingered in his voice but the more experienced wizard vanquished it immediately.

"How do you know about-" Talon stopped abruptly. "If you know she affects me in such a way-if you know she doesn't remember-then why bother making me the leader of a team she's on?"

"You need her, my boy." Cryptic as always. Sometimes Ambrose particularly enjoyed toying with the students. But it helped them. Or at least, he figured it did. A large majority of his students were more mature than their age would've allowed or made them out to be, and that mindset was required in days like these.

"What's that supposed to mean..?" Talon asked, faltering momentarily. "What-you can't be talking about how I…" He choked on his words. "...how I _used to_ love her? When we were kids?"

Ambrose coughed. "Am I wrong in believing that you still feel the same?"

Talon opened his mouth to protest, but fell silent instead. Silence hung in the air between the two, and when Talon spoke again, his voice was soft and quiet. "How do you know about that?" The Necromancer averted his eyes. Even though he was nearly twenty, he was still fragile and afraid. He hadn't asked for any of this.

A part of him just wanted to return to the life he had when his mother was alive and still married to his father. When Astra would play with him and his feelings would go unnoticed. When Hunter would follow his older brother around like a lost puppy and wasn't so mature.

It hurt.

Ambrose did not directly answer, instead leading with, "I know that she drove you to do most of what you did. I know that your personality now is partially a result of her influence. I know that you cried when you thought she'd left you during a game of hide-and-seek at the age of seven."

Talon inhaled deeply, but his voice shook when he raised his eyes to meet the headmaster's. "You're not wrong," he began. "I-I'll live. I'll live with it."

Ambrose sighed. "Then, I'll tell you now. She's your roommate, it seems." He felt bad for the boy. No matter how much he enjoyed sentences that barely made sense and leaving them up for interpretation, seeing people in pain did not give him pleasure.

"What?" Talon asked, surprised.

The old man raised his hands, shaking his head. "That wasn't me."

Talon swore loudly.

"Will you be okay?" Ambrose inquired, upon seeing the look of sorrow on Talon's face.

"Yeah, I'll-I'll be okay." Talon shook his head, furrowing his brows. "I'll deal." He threw open the door to the office and left in silence, leaving Ambrose wondering what he'd be met with next.

* * *

><p>Talon stepped out of the shower, his hair wet and matted down so that it shaped his head. Stretching, the Necromancer snatched his clothes from the bathroom sink and slid on his undergarments and pants, staring at his shirt before shrugging and putting that on, too. It was early, roughly eight in the evening, and Talon was the only one in his dorm.<p>

Thankfully. It meant that he could avoid Astra maybe for the whole night. If he could fall asleep.

Talon pushed open the bathroom door, strode over to the kitchen and opened up the surprisingly large (and Marleybone made) refrigerator he'd seen earlier before he fell asleep, scouring the interior for any decent beverages or snacks to sate his sudden hunger.

"Aw, nice," Talon said, sliding a glass bottle filled with a brown, bubbling substance from its frigid confines. It was initially an Earth drink that a galaxy-hopping adventurer known only as Majestic had found many years prior. Eventually, the Majestic managed to replicate it, and the drink became an instant hit among the wizards. As to avoid confusion with the Earth drink and also to make a profit and avoid copyright, Majestic called his drink Coffee-Cola.

It just so happened to be Talon and Astra's favorite drink as kids. Though Talon never really drank anything outside of milk and water.

With a somber smile, Talon cracked open the cap on the glass bottle, and took a hearty gulp. The cold fluid slid past his cracked lips and down his dry throat. Good. It was good. Good wasn't something he associated himself with...it wasn't a feeling he'd experienced in a long time.

The door opened as Talon took a sip of the Coffee-Cola, and his eyes flitted over to glance at the person entering. Astra froze in the doorway her multicolored eyes locked on Talon. He remembered that gaze. He hated that gaze. The same look she'd given him in the prison. The same look she'd given him as her hands closed around his throat. The same look she'd given him as she screamed his name frantically, yet failed to notice that he was there. The same look she'd had on her face-those dull, bored, _soulless_ eyes.

But he loved her.

Astra's look of shock slowly became one of anger. "That's mine," she hissed, pointing at the Coffee-Cola, her eyes narrowed, sharp, focused. It wasn't something Talon expected, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

So he said nothing, and instead continued to drink, staring off in a different direction, before eventually settling to stare at the couch with mild interest.

As a matter-of-fact, there were many things in this dorm. The dorm rooms were meant to hold at least two, so they had to be large, but even so, in Talon and Astra's dorm, there was enough furniture to sustain a recluse for years. Two bookshelves fully stocked were directly across from the red, silk laden couch. That was one space. Talon was in the kitchen, which led to both the space with the couch and the short hall that led to both rooms. Astra was in the doorway, which branched directly into the space with the couch, with the entire kitchen being visible the moment you stuck your head inside the dorm.

"Hey!" Astra barked, and Talon gave her a sidelong glance. It was difficult just to look at her. Talon felt as if his eyes were burning as he stared at her. Fuck.

"What..?" He asked, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat. "What?"

Astra strode over to him and snatched the Coffee-Cola from his hand. She pointed at it in a manner that seemed fierce. "This. This here? This drink? Mine. Not yours, kid."

"Kid? I'm older than you!" Talon exclaimed impulsively. Shit. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to run. Just run. Kill himself. Okay, too far. Maybe just switch rooms. _Could_ he get away from her?

"Yeah, well, I'm taller." Astra snipped. "Just because you're leading a team that I'm on doesn't mean you can sway up into my room and drink my drinks."

"It's my favorite drink, too," Talon mumbled, averting his eyes. He didn't want to talk to her. This was terrifying. He could feel his gut tighten.

"Israfel, isn't it?" Astra asked, downing the rest of the Coffee-Cola (which was just over half of the bottle; wizards weren't stingy like those Earthborns and filled the whole bottle with cola) and folding her arms across her chest.

Talon stared at her. "Just call me Talon," he responded. He could feel the anger rising within him. His name. She didn't remember, did she? But he met her in the prison. She spoke his name in the prison. She tried to _kill him_ in the prison.

The ensuing silence wasn't what Talon was expecting, but without warning, Astra gripped the sides of her head, her expression becoming one of pain. "Ex…Excuse me," she hissed through gritted teeth, and ran past him to the bathroom. Talon stared at her as she passed, eyes wide with confusion.

What just happened?

_**Maybe she doesn't remember the prison,**_ Thalomir suggested. _**Maybe you're new to her all over again.**_

Talon was silent, and then he shrugged to himself, frowning. "I would've been fine if she at least remembered my name," he muttered angrily. With a snort, he turned on his heel and entered his room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"Why again?" Astra muttered to herself, clutching her head tightly. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were squeezed shut. She didn't want to see how she looked, even as she stood before the bathroom mirror. "Why now, why him; why is it always him?!" She exclaimed, her voice pained yet afraid.<p>

Talon. She'd heard that name before. She'd _seen_ him before, but she never made the connection. It just...wasn't something she thought about. People looked alike, it wasn't uncommon to see people who looked the same but were unrelated. But this Talon-her supposed roommate-was the same one who haunted her dreams. The same one who lingered in the back of her mind, making her think that there were things she didn't know.

And the headaches...ever since Astra could remember (she remembered a good portion of her time before being adopted by Cyrus, including being arrested), they'd been there. Maybe there was something somebody said, but her head would just ache. Like she'd been thrown into a wall. But why did she hallucinate the team leader? She never met him before...right? Why did Astra feel as if she knew him?

"Talon," she muttered. The name felt so familiar. "Talon…" As if on cue, a frown slid across Astra's face even though her head felt like it would burst and her teeth pushed against one another. One of her memories was returning. She had felt something like this when Cyrus adopted her, as they had spent the few years they had trying to restore her memory.

Somewhere, deep down, Astra felt...sick.

_The man...the one Astra was afraid of-Fallon-had stumbled into the room to "give her a check up", but the greasy smile on his face had told her enough. She had screamed, cried, sobbed, soaked her face in tears, but her lip until she drew blood, and thrashed in her bonds as he advanced, his tongue sliding across his lips in anticipation, something which terrified Astra, even more than when his pants hit the ground, the clink of his belt buckle returning her to her senses. _

_He was going to...no, she couldn't let him. She didn't want this. Not from him. Maybe if she was at home, maybe if she was safe, maybe if she was with Talon...maybe she would want it. But she wasn't at home. And Talon wasn't here. _

_She wasn't safe anymore. _

"_Talon," she whispered on impulse. Talon would protect her, even if he wasn't really there. Talon would make Astra strong. He would keep her alive._

_Fight back. She had to fight back. _

_Astra had bit until he had scars all over his face, but he did not cease. He slapped her several times, whispering her name, voice ominous and sinister, his hand gripping her throat tightly, squeezing the life out of her; spittle flying from his mouth to hit her face, his teeth gritted tightly, and then she felt him inside of her. _

_The pain Astra experienced was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She could feel the blood as it ran down her thighs and began to cry. _

"_I'm sorry, Talon, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" She sobbed. _

_She felt him shift around in attempt to get comfortable, give up and felt his hips shoot upwards and brush against her thighs. Then there was more pain and she screamed in anguish. His clawed, demonic-hands gripped her waist and he pulled her down onto him as best he could as he thrust upwards and she continued to scream; the tears kept flowing and there was blood, but he didn't stop and Astra was afraid. _

_Not this. _

_Fallon moved his hands, roughly kneading her breasts, breaking skin and drawing blood, leaving bite marks, bruises and cuts along her neck, collarbone and around her nipples. _

_Astra wanted to run._

_She didn't want this. He touched her in the way she'd wanted Talon to touch her when she was back home. When she was in love. _

_When she was safe. But this…she hated this. _

_Astra couldn't speak for a time, and her mouth just hung agape, frozen in an agonised scream. He knotted his fingers into her hair, pulled as he thrust faster, gave a powerful grunt, and then Astra felt the fluids blast into her. She could move again. She screamed, and began to flail wildly within her binds. _

_He slipped out of her, pulling up his pants, not even bothering to clean the mess of blood, tears, sweat and semen from the floor, turned on his heel and left._

"No," Astra whispered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was filled with fear, but then again, who wouldn't be afraid after a memory like that?

And Talon...he was important. Important enough that Astra wished he knew where she was so he could save her. Astra now knew that she had been attracted to him, both emotionally and sexually. But...she needed him. She needed him back there, and he wasn't there.

It made her feel...afraid.

Astra was strong, but the one thing...the one person she was afraid of was Fallon. If he resurfaced...if he found her, she could turn to Cyrus, but Cyrus couldn't help her. Not during a war. There was more at stake that just her life, and she shouldn't trouble him with basic problems. If one could call her problem basic.

She shivered. The bathroom was warm. Could she turn to Talon? They only just met, but...it seemed like Astra knew him. She felt some sort of attachment to him, a connection that she couldn't yet explain. He made her feel...wanted. Special. The way he looked at her (granted, he'd only glared at her, or provided a sidelong glance) made her feel strong. Safe.

Warm. It was not easy to retain her air of confidence and dominance around him. Sure, she managed to do a pretty decent job of it, but it was more difficult than she made it seem.

Maybe he knew her, too? The boy who introduced himself as his brother sure knew her. Astra shook her head frantically in an attempt to both rid herself of the ache and cease her bordering-on-lecherous thoughts, but the memory was hers and she couldn't let go of what was already there.

Instead, she chose to crawl into her bed, curl up into a tight ball, close her eyes and hope that she was able to get some rest before the next day arrived.

* * *

><p>Leif sighed, throwing himself onto his bed. 9:30 in the evening wasn't an optimal time for him to sleep considering that he hadn't even gotten his reading in yet, but he felt tired. Exhausted, in fact. Meeting with his team had drained all the energy from his body, and they had met before lunch.<p>

He had taken one look at the people surrounding him, all shapes, sizes and races, and felt terrified. Compared to him, their faces were masks of stoicism and power whereas he always carried a stupefied expression wherever he traveled. On top of that, to say the least, he looked like a girl. Coupled with his shoulder length, curly hair, there wasn't much he could do to stop people from calling him a female. Of course, he could always _cut_ his hair, but to Leif, that was never an option.

Leif wanted to be a man. Or at least be viewed as one. The team leader-he was manly. Or he at least seemed like a real man, up until he froze upon seeing the eye-catching redhead.

But that was besides the point. Leif had worked with negligible difficulty to prepare for this simple team meeting. He stocked up on treasure cards, tried putting gel in his hair so that he didn't look so much like a girl, and made sure that he was wearing his best looking (and most practical) outfit.

Leif let out a powerful breath before he sat up on his bed, thinking. He was tired, yes, but he could never get the sleep he needed without clearing his head. A walk seemed best. Maybe he'd just stroll around Ravenwood. The small branch of Wizard City was always active at all times of the night, since nighttime was when most would party for the simplest of reasons. There wasn't any real way to get lost, and even if you did, someone was usually there to provide some form of assistance.

He opened the door of his dormitory and began descending the stairs, brushing past a green-eyed blonde on the way down. He almost gave her a second glance upon feeling her eyes on him, but shrugged it off. He didn't know her and he doubted she'd be important to him anyways. There were all sorts of noises coming from the separate halls that evening. Leif heard moans and screams (he didn't bother to give that a second thought), grunts followed by the sound of someone hitting a sandbag, and even the barks or growls of certain pets. He smiled slightly to himself as he opened the door that led from his dorm to Ravenwood.

The autumn air was refreshing. The perfect balance of warm and cold. The season that signaled the coming of winter, the opening of the gates of Polaris and the time where Leif had the most fun. Where he wouldn't be bullied needlessly because a majority of his tormentors were stuck in their dorms. Of course, he was, too, but he didn't have to see them, so that served as an added bonus. Leif glanced around, deciding to head towards Bartleby. It was active by the dorms and near each school building, but the teachers weren't in their classrooms and not too many people would be inside of Bartleby. It would be a nice, quiet place to gather his thoughts.

The poor Theurgist was instead greeted by the wings of a green-skinned Draconian, one who Leif recognized as Eron. One of his teammates. He made an attempt to brush the wings from his face, but the moment he touched the appendages, they seemed to shiver and extended instead, the talons on the end nearly bisecting him. Alright. Leif decided to try and crouch under the wings, but as he made an advance towards the other side of Bartleby, his legs were swept out from under him by the Draconian's tail, and he tripped, his chin slamming against the tree's interior. The Theurgist's teeth slammed together, and when the ringing in his ears subsided slightly, he could feel a small indent in his chin.

"Ah!" Leif yelped. Was that...blood streaming from it?

Ah, well, nothing he couldn't heal. Of course, the wound could be healed, but the sting of receiving it wouldn't subside for a time and his dignity (what little he retained, anyway) could not be scraped off of the ground. As Leif rose to his feet and retreated a fairly safe distance, he locked eyes with the Draconian, who rose from his kneeling position.

"...Hi," Leif murmured weakly, unsure of what to say. The creature's stare terrified him. Without warning, the Draconian gave a small smirk, and Leif frowned in confusion.

"Hey there...Leif, ain't it?" Eron inquired, a smug (was it really?) note in his voice.

"Hi…" Leif trailed off, briefly forgetting the Draconian's name. "You're Eron, right? Do...do you have...a last name?" Leif followed up on impulse. He was curious. Despite the fact that the Draconian had just tripped him and nearly destroyed him with simply a pair of wings, Leif wasn't angry. He had forgotten about most of it, anyways. He wasn't the type to linger on things.

Eron nodded. "I...yeah, I'm Eron...but…" He paused for a second, musing. Or at least, Leif assumed he was musing. If musing consisted of staring at Leif with eyes that said 'how interesting'. "I don't got a last name." Eron concluded.

The way the Draconian talked was so informal...and here he thought Draconians were polite and spoke in more formal tongues. Not as if they were addressing a sibling. But Eron threw all the stereotypes aside. He was brash. Reckless.

_Cool._

"What were you doing there?" Leif inquired, now curious as to why he was nearly decimated upon entry.

"When?" Eron responded, confused.

"When I walked in."

"When did you walk in..?"

"Just now," Leif answered, frowning slightly. Didn't you hear me trip?"

"Oh," Eron murmured thoughtfully. "Well, sorry about that. People ain't usually here when I am, so…" He trailed off, and Leif assumed he was too embarrassed to force an actual apology. It was okay. He was forgiven.

"It's only 10:00."

"I know."

"So what was it you were doing?"

Eron paused. He stared at Leif blankly, and for a moment, Leif _felt _the self-hatred and torment that Eron had experienced, but it vanished as soon as it had come and the feeling was no more. The Theurgist staggered back, surprised by the sudden phenomenon he'd experienced. "I was praying," Eron said simply. "I pray twice a day."

"Do you believe in a god?"

"There are no gods in this place. This fuckin' hell...hellish embrace…" Eron trailed off again, and Leif was left speechless-how could someone pray to a god or gods they didn't believe existed? It was bewildering. Before he could respond, Eron spoke again. "I didn't get your name, kid. Unless you don't have one. Y'got one?"

Leif smiled softly. "Sure do. I'm Leif Shadowspear."

* * *

><p><strong>MW: And that's all for the first half of this chapter. I haven't written the first half yet, so expect it within a month, shortly after I finish my finals and my AP exams. Thanks! I hope you enjoyed, and with that being said, here is the normal Q and A.<strong>

**Q: Why does Eron pray if he doesn't believe in any gods?**

**A: It's an aspect of him which I much enjoy-taken from my beliefs. For instance, I am an atheist, but there are times when I pray to what I refer to as a "nonexistent God" in order to make myself feel better. I don't believe in the existence of a God or multiple gods...or anything, really, but I pray in order to feel safe when I fail to remain intact by my own means. It's like having safe words. Similar to how I pray in order to maintain my sanity and feel safe when I have difficulty relieving stress or handling tough situations, Eron prays in order to reassure himself that he's okay.**

**Q: Why did you end with Leif saying his name?**

**A: If you remember the other girl Talon was in love with, Valkyrie, she had the same last name. If you don't remember, you'll see.**

**Q: Will Astra be okay?**

**A: Will she? I don't know. I assume she will, as long as she doesn't lose someone else dear to her. Astra's memories have been wiped twice, but they aren't actually gone. What Vale never bothered to learn about his device is that it simply represses memories to the point where they appear virtually nonexistent, and are rarely recovered. In Astra's case, she memorized Talon's name, which became the trigger to recovering her memories.**

**Q: What's with the name of the chapter?**

**A: Well, at the end of the chapter, Eron refers to the world as a "hellish embrace" which illustrates both his troubled past and his jaded outlook on life. In the second part, when Talon manages to have a conversation with Astra (albeit a confusing one), he talks about his cynicism (which comes primarily from Thalomir) and how it has changed his view on life. This sparks a sort of rift between the two, but we'll get to that later. Anyways, the other piece of the title, "heavenly voice" refers to how people initially view someone they're in love with. They call them beautiful, say they'll die for them, et cetera. It refers to the relationship between Hunter and Sabrina, which is explored in the second half.**


End file.
